


Saving Sanditon (PAUSED)

by ByElleJayce



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen, Welcome to Sanditon
Genre: Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, References to Jane Austen, Renaissance Era, Romance, Sanditon, Slow Romance, Social Media, Writers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByElleJayce/pseuds/ByElleJayce
Summary: Sanditon was Jane Austen's final work.  It was left unfinished.Is it cursed to remain that way?This is the story of how one book, in the midst of unprecedented times, brought together people from across the globe.United by one goal: Save Sanditon.#savesanditonAlthough based around real events and experiences, the following - including names, brands, companies etc - are all purely a work of fiction.Twitter and Instagram - @ByElleJayce
Comments: 83
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting chapters as I write them, aiming to write at least one per week in-between working and the usual stuff... 
> 
> Thankyou to the sisterhood for giving me the confidence to do this!

# 

# Introduction

On March 18, 1817, Jane Austen wrote these words: 

“ _Poor Mr. Hollis!—It was impossible not to feel him hardly used; to be obliged to stand back in his own house and see the best place by the fire constantly occupied by Sir H. D.”_

They sadly turned out to be her last as four months later, she passed away. Leaving her final novel - Sanditon - unfinished, part-way through the twelfth chapter.

The plot centres around Miss Heywood, the daughter of a gentleman farmer from Sussex, and her adventures within the upcoming, fashionable and entertaining seaside town of Sanditon. There she becomes entangled with the lives of the Parker family and it’s other ‘modern,’ as Austen called them, residents. These include the wealthy Lady Denham and the quite unique Miss Lambe - A 17-year-old heiress and daughter of a slave owner from the West Indies, who Lady Denham desperately wants to marry off to her nephew Sir Edward.

In 1925, when Sanditon was published, it was received with mixed emotions. Since then, many writers have sought to give Sanditon an ending, including Anne Austen Lefroy - Austen’s niece. Lefroy attempted to add to the story by leaning towards a new connection between two of the main characters - Miss Charlotte Heywood and the intriguing Mr Sidney Parker. Unfortunately, she too left the novel unfinished.

Fast forward to the summer of 2019 and Sanditon was brought to life in a gloriously atmospheric and luxurious TV adaptation. In keeping with the original book, this too received mixed reviews.

Shock and heartbreak rocked its fans throughout Britain - and then the world - when later that year, once again Sanditon was left unfinished.

This is the story of how, in the midst of unprecedented times, that one book, one idea, one hope, brought together people from across the globe and developed into so much more.  
A Sister (and Brother) hood, united by one goal: Save Sanditon.


	2. Chapter 2

**2019**

**October**

**KAT**

All I wanted was a happy ending.  
Was that really too much to ask of a fiction writer and a multimillion-pound, award-winning TV company? Not a grand house, not a new car. Not even a pair of Jimmy Choo's. Just a happy ending. After all, making dreams come to life, wasn’t that _kind_ of their job?

Once I'd found the TV remote - I’d accidentally kicked it under the coffee table during my emotional outburst - I rewound the last five minutes of Sanditon. I must have missed something. Please oh please, let me have missed something.

I watched, biting my nails, as Miss Charlotte Heywood, the heroine of Jane Austen’s final work, departed from the seaside town, alone. Enter Mr Sidney Parker, looking ridiculously dashing on his horse. The perfect mix of surly, brooding, forlorn, compassionate and mysterious. He halted her carriage. Any second now he would sweep her into his arms, beg for her forgiveness, confess his love and off they would go to the altar and live happily ever after.

That did not happen.  
Charlotte graciously left once again, saving her tears until Sidney could not see them. Cue end titles.

“NO! It’s not fair. That can’t be it!” I fell back and sank into the cushions of my sofa, clutching the remote to my chest as if it were a genie’s lamp that could somehow grant my wish and fix this travesty.

My husband opened the door of our living room, a tea towel over his shoulder and what looked like tomato, or possibly curry sauce splashed across his chest. I mean, how?

“Kat, was that you?” When he saw me, now biting the remote, he knelt on the floor next to me. “Babes? What happened? Is it your mum?”

“No,” I sniffed, “I haven’t heard from her.” For once. “I can't believe he would chase her like that and then just… leave. It’s not right.”

“Who?”

“Sidney. Charlotte and Sidney!”

“Oh for goodness sake Kat.” Bottle green eyes rolled up to the ceiling, then fell back on me with the look of someone being made to deal with a naughty toddler. Not their grown wife. “I thought something bad had happened.”

“It has.”

“No, I meant, actually bad. Real-world bad.”

“Real-world? This is the real world. Jane Austen is a _real_ person Jediah and she wouldn’t end it like that.”

By that point, he had got up and was headed out of the room. I only ever used his full name when I was annoyed. Only I wasn’t finished.

I followed him to the kitchen, wiping my eyes along the way. “You don’t get it. I’m upset because it's sad.”

“I get it,” he said, going back to his pot stirring. (It was curry.) “The sweet innocent girl didn't get the hot guy in leather trousers. End of. You always get so overdramatic.”

“I do not!” I argued. Over dramatically.

Damn it.

I tried it again. “I do not.” Cool, monotone, just to make my point.

Then walked off - as non dramatically as possible.  
  
  


Sat on my bed, a chunky knit blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I mourned the loss in private. I felt things, that was all. Just like dad. He was a writer too. We got lost in stories, characters became our friends, their highs and lows became ours. Five years of marriage and Jed still didn’t understand. Overdramatic. Pah! Usually, he moaned I was cold or that I didn’t communicate. Wish he would make his mind up. Dad would have understood. Maybe even Darcy…

** DARCY **

**Have you watched the last episode yet? Kat x**

**21:28**

**Of Sanditon that is…**

**21:29**

**No yet. No spoilers please. On nights this week. Will watch when I get in x D**

**21:30**

####  **Call me when you do. I need to talk to someone about it.**

####  **21:31**

**Will do x D**

**21:31**

Great. I’m going to be thinking about it all night now because that means it's either so wonderful she can't contain herself, or it’s so terrible she needs to vent. So much for no spoilers.

I pull my coat tight and hop on to the next train at London Fields, heading for Liverpool St. It’s busy, as usual. Most people are probably on their way home, or off having fun. Instead I have a week of graveyard shifts ahead of me. Maybe mom’s right. I'm in the wrong job. Oh she would love to hear that. ‘I told you’ she would say, wagging a finger. She thinks the only possible reason I could have for being a nurse, is to become a doctor. Or to find an available doctor to marry. I explained that's not how it works - career or marriage wise. She still tells people I’m a ‘doctor in training.’

Quick change at Liverpool St to head for Euston Square. I'm worrying about Sanditon now.

  
  


**Does that mean it’s a sad ending? x D**

**21:55**

**You said no spoilers so I'm not telling you. Just call me after. Kat x**

**21.55**

**PS. Jed said I’m overdramatic.**

**21:56**

**You are.**

**21:56**

**Just watch it!!! You’ll see x**

**21:57**

  
  


She is. I think the three exclamation points proves it. Poor Jed. He’s an angel in a suit. How he lives with her I do not know. Sometimes I feel bad for introducing them. He’s a pharmaceutical rep, we bumped into each other a few times at work, got chatting then, when he was at my ex boss's retirement do, I introduced him to my sister, Kat. On either a really bad day, or really drunk night, I wonder what could have happened if I never had.

Then I hate myself for thinking it.

Thou shalt not covet thy sisters husband. No matter how lovely he is, or how lonely I get. Too young for me anyway. And slim. Could never go out with someone skinnier than me.  
Shallow I know, but true.

Dr Chen smiles a hello then rolls her eyes as I make my way through the bustle of A&E to the staff rooms. She’s having to hold down a screaming drunk guy (by half sitting on him) while simultaneously stitching his arm. Looks fun.

It’s gonna be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

###  **Kat**

Darcy rang me just after 9 am. Jed was working so I had the house to myself, and the freedom to talk about things that weren't in the ‘real world’ for as long as I wanted. She sounded wrecked, and that was after only one-night shift. A twinge of guilt played around my chest; I hadn't seen her in over a month. Despite the fact, she lived just on the other side of London. We had our differences - she was more like our mother, although she would never admit to it - but I needed to make more of an effort. Especially now Matthew had gone.

Breakups were never easy, I'd had my fair share. But I couldn't imagine suddenly finding yourself single again after discovering your partner of eight years had been cheating on you. I bet Mom hadn’t helped. Knowing her, she would have said something like; ‘I told you to get yourself a doctor. Smart men don't do things like that to women. Now look at you, thirty-two, not getting any younger you know.’

So, Darcy had thrown herself into work and taken a senior nursing role at the University Hospital. She loved her job. If I had inherited all of our parents' creativity, she had definitely taken all of the capability. And probably most of the sense too. And confidence.

“Ok, so. I watched it.” She said, her voice hoarser than usual.

“And?”

“You weren't being overdramatic.”

“THANKYOU!” I almost split my tea.

There was a pause, Darcy sighed, or it might have been a yawn. “I wanna smack Sidney right in the face.”

“I thought you were team Sidney all the way? Or was that just because he’s good looking?” I flicked on the kettle to make myself another tea.

Our love for Jane Austen, and generally any period drama, was one of the only things my sister and I had in common. Again, it was something we got from Dad. We grew up reading classics and would watch the Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth version of P&P - Pride & Prejudice - at least twice a year. Whereas most girls my age could sing the lyrics of the Spice Girls off by heart, I could recite the whole of Mr Darcy’s marriage proposals. And quite a lot of other scenes too.

It was also of course, where we got our names from. Dad convinced Mom that Darcy was an upper-class and respectable English name for a young girl with a bright future, so she agreed. Four years later when I came along, Mom picked Catherine for me - because it was a royal name - and Dad was very happy to go along with it. Only he never called me Catherine; I was always Kitty. So without realising it, Mom now had two daughters named after P&P. Sneaky Dad. It wasn't until I started work my name got shortened even more.

“Noah Jones is more than good looking Kat,” she tittered, “You know that advert, ‘if Carlsberg did’ whatever? Well, I’m telling you, if Carlsberg could see the man of my dreams then make him; _that_ would be him. Seriously how does Charlotte not just grab him by the hair and snog his face off.”

“Probably because it’s the early 19th century and they have this thing called decorum.”

“Smart arse.”

Charming.

  
  


###  **Darcy**

Kat always has a smart answer for everything.

“But anyway, yes I’m still team Sidney,” I say, “Even if he has technically done to Charlotte the same as what that woman did to him.”

“Which is why,” Kat was going to disagree, I could hear it coming. “I’m team Stringer.” Bingo. “I think in the long term, she would be happier with him. They have more in common and would help each other grow.”

I could kind of see her point. “So what you’re saying is, if this were snog, marry, avoid. You would snog Sid, marry Stringer and avoid…?”

“Edward.”

“Oooh yeah of course. Hmm ok. I’d still take Sid. I’d forgive that face anything.”

“And on that note,” she sighs, “I’m off to work.” By ‘off’ to work, she means going to the desk in her spare room.

“Ok speak soon. Hurry up season two, that's all I can say. Bet they’ll make us wait until next summer.”

I hang up and rewatch the last ten minutes of the final episode again. Why do I punish myself? It’s still just as heartbreaking. Part of me wishes I’d never seen any of it. But then, I wouldn't have spent the last 8 weeks of Sunday evenings with Noah in my living room. Umm.

  
  
  


###  **Joshua**

About to sling my bag over my shoulder and leave the office when phone rings. Ignore it. It stops. It rings again before I’ve made it to the door. Crying out loud. It's Yan, my assistant. 

“I’m on my way out of the door, what’s up?” And now I’m probably going to miss my train. Knew I should have brought my bike.

“Josh, get on Twitter, it’s blowing up man.”

“What about.”

“The ending man, people ain't happy.”

This doesn’t surprise me. “It's not an ending that’s why.” At least, it wasn't meant to be. 

I glance through the wall of dying palms toward the Producer’s office. Are we supposed to water them or do the cleaners do it? Get a job in the media industry, have a glamorous office I thought. Jet off all over the world I thought. Ha! The furthest I’d been was the Isle of Man.

“Look, it’s not up to us,” I say feeling heavy. “We’ll just have to see how things go in the US.”

“All that work though…” Yan blows a puff of air over the speaker.

“I know.” That's the media for you. Fickle. You win some, you lose some. “Chin up,” I tell him. “Something will come up.”

Or not. But I don't say it. He’s new, best not to ruin _all_ his hopes and dreams in the first month.

Missed the train. Ten minutes until the next one. Can't resist looking on Twitter. Wow, he was right, whole accounts have been set up already to talk about _that_ ending. Suppose it’s ironic really. The novel was never finished and now… Maybe it’s cursed.

Reviews were mixed, some people loved the show, others hated it. Said it went against everything that an Austen adaptation should be. I’m torn. I get both sides I suppose, but then I am biased. Can't help feeling anxious, like it’s my fault these people are so annoyed. After all, I did help film the thing.

Really hope I’m not out of a job.

  
  


###  **Kat**

When dad told me to pursue my dreams of being a writer, I doubt writing medical reports was what he had in mind. Wasn't really what I had in mind either. It’s so damn boring. Still, it helped to keep my hand in I guess, just until I finished my novel.

I emailed off my latest finished piece about the amount of wasted money and products within pharmacies then found myself typing ‘Sanditon’ into Google. Darcy had presumed there would be another series, she must have been right. That would make so much more sense. I couldn't find anything about it though, at least not anything for definite. After a while though, I stumbled across a thread on Twitter. It turned out we weren't the only ones upset. People had already stare complaining to RIVA - the TV company.

**@allthingsAusten I CANNOT believe that ending! JA** (I guessed JA meant Jane Austen) **would NOT have finished it like that. @RIVA**

**@fortheloveofnoah Charlotte and Sindey were meant to be together. WHY?! #heartbroken #sanditon @RIVA**

**@Sanditonlover Just joined Twitter purely to complain to @RIVA about that shocking end. I will not be able to sleep now until S2. Please #savesanditon soon!**

I clicked on the hashtag for #savesanditon and couldn't believe my eyes, lists of people who felt exactly like I did. Lists of people who were using Twitter to share their heartbreak. Without thinking twice about it, I started typing:

**@KittyKat-Ford So glad I’m not the only one left devastated after watching #Sanditon. Does anyone know when the next series will be? #savesanditon**

Within ten minutes I received multiple replies from people all wondering and desperately trying to find out the same thing.

  
  


###  **Darcy**

Before heading home I pop into Oncology to check up on Mr Howard. He’s a sweetheart. He also never gets any visitors; His wife died a few years before, he never had any children.

When I see him my breath gets lodged in my throat. He’s even greyer and thinner than yesterday. His eyes flutter open as I approach.

“Hey,” I say softly, “Didn’t mean to wake you, just wanted to check on my favourite patient.”

His eyes close again but the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. “I bet you tell all of your patients that.”

“That they're my favourite? Of course. But it's not normally true. Don't tell them that though.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good. I wouldn't want them to start stealing your sweetie stash in revenge.”

It goes quiet again as he dozes in and out of consciousness. I swallow back the sting of tears. He reminds me of Dad. If he were a dog, a cat, or even a hamster the vets would tell you it was cruel to keep him alive in pain. How is this any better? He has no hope, there's nothing more anyone can do. If I could end his suffering would I have the strength to do it? Does that make me a monster for even considering it?

Bloody hell, it sure puts my being upset about a TV program into perspective.

But then, we all need to escape real life sometimes...

Isn't that why we love to watch happy endings?

I leave Mr Howard to sleep and walk out of the hospital into the cold damp morning air. As I’m walking, I set myself up a Twitter account - @TheRealMissDarcy of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!  
> Thanks for your comments and encouragement so far. Sorry, my posting is a little slow... There really aren't enough hours in the day are there?
> 
> Anyway hope you enjoyed getting to find out some more about the characters in this chapter.
> 
> If you like it so far, please check out my other original story 'All The Days'  
> which is now complete and being uploaded in stages as I'm editing it... It's very loosely inspired by my love of Mr Sidner Parker/Theo James so expect to find a few nods to Jane Austen in there ;-)  
> As well as lots of Music, Lyrics plus even the odd Star Wars quote!!
> 
> Elle xxx
> 
> @ByElleJayce


	4. Chapter 4

# 2019

# November

  
  


**@hereforsanditon - Why is @RIVA making us wait so long! Please tell us when season 2 will happen**

**@Sanditonlover - Season 2 season 2, we want season 2. Won't you please tell us when, we get season 2! Hey! (sing it guys) x**

**@newmrsparker - RIVA are still posting to advertise it being on in the US, that's a good sign right?**

**@TheRealMissDarcy - I hope so @newmrsparker Probably gonna make us wait til the year now**

**@teamstringer - I know this is going to cause an argument but what the hell: Stringer or Sidney? Discuss… :-p**

**@TheRealMissDarcy - SIDNEY! @teamstringer I’d take him every day (and night) of the week ;-)**

**@KittyKat-Ford - Is that based purely on looks @TheRealMissDarcy or are we having a serious discussion here?**

**@TheRealMissDarcy - Don't get so OVER DRAMATIC @KittyKat-Ford :p**

**@fortheloveofnoah - maybe we could all write to RIVA? Or set up a proper fan page or something?**

**@charlotteparker - hey that's a good idea @fortheloveofnoah I’ll look into it and get back to you all xxx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I've tried to come up new Twitter user names, if I have accidentally used a real one then I'm sorry! Please let me know... It's hard when all the good ones have been used! 
> 
> Thanks x Elle


	5. Chapter 5

# 2019

# December

### Kat

Today's report was about reducing budgets for product packaging. Riveting stuff. Still, I managed to slip in my word for the day - rue. Small, but a good one. I hit send and off it flew to the editor of The Pharmacy Magazine. Now, finally, I had some time to work on my novel. It was a love story. Two characters for very different ways of life bumped into each other - literally - and began a journey together. One trying to hold on and go back to her past, the other trying to forget his. There was a little bit of a triangle in there, plus a few Jane Auten references of course. People would probably say it’s cliche but you know what, I didn't care. Cliches only became a cliche because they were popular. And things only become popular because - even though we all deny it - we like them. That's what Dad would have said anyway. _‘Write what you love my Kitty.’_

After all, if you thought about it - as I did - Pride & Prejudice would probably be called cliche if it was written today wouldn't it? Elizabeth Bennet was the ultimate ‘not like other girls’ girl. She read all the time, spoke her mind, refused to marry for money and comfort to fit in with society. Mr Darcy was the original ‘bad boy.’ Gruff, rude, mysteriously enticing (not to mention stupidly rich) with a cocky exterior that was melted away by a _‘pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman.’_ Then, of course, came Mr Wicham...

Damn, Jane Austen invented the bad-boy-good-girl-love-triangle. _You go girl._

A few thousand words in, Darcy rang. I could hear her footsteps and traffic as she walked from work, she sounded exhausted again. “Have you been on Twitter today?”

“No,” I said, “Contrary to your belief, I do not spend all day sitting on a computer.”

“Well have a look when you get chance, that Charlotte Parker messaged me, her name is actually Charlotte as well, anyway, she's going to use her account as the official Sanditon fan account. You need to follow her.”

I waited a minute to hide the fact that I was actually already on the computer, I had been all day, then loaded up Twitter. “Ok, I've followed her. You're really getting into all this aren't you?”

“I suppose so. I just want something to have a _proper_ ending for once.”

It felt like the bouncing bright balloon that contained all her energy and life had just been burst, leaving a gaping vacuum. My heart got sucked in. I really should have visited her more often. “Darcy, do you want to come over for dinner? Jed’s making lasagne.”

“From scratch or from a jar?”

“This is Jed we’re talking about. From scratch of course.”

“I’m on my way.”

  
  


### Joshua

Sitting at my desk, scrolling through Twitter even though I finished work half an hour ago. I’m hooked. Hate social media, but I even found myself setting up an account (@behindthecamera) just so I can follow the stream of conversations tagged with #savesanditon

There are a lot. More and more are joining every day now that it’s being aired in the states. The fans seem to have now gained an official leader, the aptly named @charlotteparker. I can guess how she wanted the story to end.

No such thing as bad publicity right? Surely all this is good, we could use it. Print off a few pages of the tweets, peer over the top of my desk towards the Producer’s office. He’s still here too. Wonder if he’s seen all of this…

The sound of my weak tap on his door sends my hands to ice. Don Weaver is not an approachable man. You would think that after 10 plus years spent climbing up from Cameraman No4 to the Director of Photography, I would have got used to him. Not a chance. He scares the bejesus outta me.

“Come in Josh.”

“Hey Don, sorry to disturb you but I just, well, if you've got a min--”

“If you get on with it then yes, I have one minute.”

 _Oh boy_ , what was I thinking? “Oh ok, well, I thought you should see this.” Pass him the printouts. “The following has been growing like crazy since October and its exploded now the States are--”

“Yes, I know.” He passes the papers back without looking at me. “The PR guy keeps me up to speed.”

Of course, he would. _Durr._ “Right yeah of course. I’m just thinking, won't any of this, especially if it keeps growing, won't it help our chances with the broadcasters?”

“Look, Josh.” Don sits back in his vintage leather button back chair, elbows on armrests, fingers steepled, black eyes staring over the top of rimless glasses. _Run run run._ “I know this was your baby. You should be proud of it. But this is all to do with ratings now. The bottom line is they weren't good enough.”

“Some of our other shows had half the amount, they got renewed.”

“Because they also cost half the amount to make.” He lifts his glasses onto his head. I wonder if he's ever drawn a mouth onto his bald scalp to make it look like a face… No. Not the kind of thing he would do. “Don't take it personally Josh. It's not a reflection on your work, it's all about the money now.”

“But if it does really well in the US?”

“Then never say never.” Was that almost a smile? “But Josh,” he calls as I go to open the door. “Don't get your hopes up.” Glasses down again, back to his computer, conversation over.

  
  


### Darcy

I double back on myself and get to Kat’s place in less than half an hour, a downright miracle for a London evening.

The smell of garlic bread hits me when she opens the door. Matthew always used to like cooking too… there were moments I couldn't help missing him. _Jerk._ Though I’m not so sure if I really miss _him_ , or whether I just miss… someone. 

Jed walks in from the kitchen carrying the large dish of lasagne, towel over his shoulder, tee, joggers, dark hair all ruffled. He is really rather handsome, in fact, he's not far off from Mr Sidney Parker. Kat pours me a glass of wine and doesn’t even look up to thank him. She’s always been such a ‘glass half empty’ kind of person. She’d never admit to it, but it's a trait she gets from Mom. Unfortunately, I think I picked it up too. The way she's always in her own world, that’s definitely Dad.

Jed disappears to get plates, I put my hand on Kat’s. “You should try and be a bit nicer to Jed.”

  
  


### Kat

Sometimes I worried that Darcy liked my husband more than she liked me. She actually told me to be nicer to him, could you believe that? I immediately felt defensive, heat swept my cheeks, I wanted to retaliate, but then I saw her face. Her grey-brown eyes had lost their life. Her black hair that usually hung in glossy waves was pulled back into an unwashed bun. 

I remembered what Dad told me:

_‘Sometimes it's the ones who look the strongest, who need the most love.’_

To which, my 12-year-old self then asked, ‘Like Eleanor Dashwood?’

_‘Exactly. Darcy is my Eleanor, and you are my Marianne.’_

Just because people didn't show their feelings, didn't mean they weren't feeling them. “Darcy, what's wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m fine.” She gave her standard response, then looked away. “I just can't stop feeling annoyed about that ending.”

We both knew there was more to her mood that the ending of Sanditon.

“Do you think,” I suggested, “That maybe you're actually angry because of Matthew?”

“No shit Sherlock!” She snapped, which normally meant I was right.

“You have every right to be angry. Why don't you come and stay with us for a bit?”

“Thanks. But honestly, I’m fine. It’s not just Matthew, it's, it’s…” She looked at me as if trying to decide on whether to tell me something. “It’s nothing. Just me getting all wound up.” 

She obviously decided against it. Just like Mom. They always saw me as the baby.

“And besides,” she said, _“What are men to rocks and mountains?”_ It was a line from Pride & Prejudice. 

That was how my sister and I communicated, without arguing at least. Through the medium of regency fiction quotes.

I topped up her wine. “Who knows Darcy, perhaps, if you have very good luck, you may meet with another Mr Collins in time.”  
  
“And let's hope,” she laughed, “He's a blummin Doctor so I can get Mom off my back!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Dad,  
> You taught me, not just to read, but to love words and the knowledge they contain.  
> Therefore, you gave me a life of adventures, romances, mysteries.  
> Of histories in worlds gone by to futures in galaxies far far away.   
> For that, I shall be eternally grateful.
> 
> RH. Jan 1954 to Nov 2020.

#  2020  
January

###  Joshua

Don’s heading my way. Instinctively I slump in my chair, praying the wall of plants will hide me. They don’t.

“Ar Josh,” he says, “a word please, in my office.”

Flippin hate those plants.

Follow him to the office, feeling like a kid behind the headmaster. He offers me a seat and shuts the door. This is going to be bad.

He sits on the corner of his desk. “No easy way to say this Josh so I’m just going to be straight with you.” 

Was he ever not straight with me? Oh flip, if the last ten years were Don being nice than what the hell am I in for now?

“We had confirmation this morning that there won’t be a second series.”

I manage to make eye contact. “Of Sanditon?” Then I look back at the floor.

“Yes. It will be announced publicly by the end of the day.”

It feels like I’ve just been told that a friend has died. Empty. Why? How? It's not fair. 

It was always my dream to make a costume drama. And then for it to be a Jane Austen well, that was just… everything. This can’t be the end. Not again.

  
  


###  Darcy

Dr Chen introduces me to a new walk-in patient. Male. 50's. Suspected heart attack. “Right then, I’m going to leave you in the capable hand of Darcy here to take your blood tests. I’ll be back later when we get the results.”

Pulling over a stool, I take a seat with my tray of supplies. “Ok, this won't take a minute.”

He smiles, it's a little groggy and dazed but pleasant. “No problem love. Aren't you brown! Been somewhere nice?”

I don't take offence to his comment. When you have a name like Darcy Baxter combined with a Bristol slash London accent and light eyes, people never guess that you’re actually half Indian.

“Oh, I wish!” I grin. “Just a sharp sting now…”

A few minutes later - after hearing all about his last holiday - and I’m done. I drop the samples off at the lab on my way to visit Mr Howard. He barely wakes up anymore. Not even when I sit next to him and touch his hand.

I’m just about to get on the train home when the Tweet goes viral: Sanditon is officially cancelled. I stare at it for so long (reading the stream of comments that have already started appearing) that I miss the train. Without thinking, I turn and get on the one headed for Kat’s instead.

  
  


###  Kat

Putting on your pyjamas after dinner and cuddling up with a blanket and book really was one of the most simple and yet most lovely things ever. Jed handed me a cup of tea and sat at the other end of the sofa with his laptop and Football Manager game. He would tell me off for calling it a ‘game.’ It was all tactics and strategy and skill apparently. I’d learnt to just not mention it.

He was trying to steal the blanket so I started tickling his toes.

“No no no, don't! Stop it!” He wrapped his hands around mine and leant in, breath on my ear. “You know I can't be held responsible for my actions when you tickle me.”

His voice became like a low rumbling purr. It always did strange warm things to my insides. I was about to tickle him again so I could find out what those actions might have been when the doorbell rang.  _ You have to be kidding. _

“Were you expecting anyone?” He asked. I shook my head as he headed for the door. 

A few seconds later Darcy walked in. “Sister sister have you heard the news?” 

I smiled at her reference to P&P again, though she didn't look very happy about it. I don’t think she had ever visited us without an invitation before. Something was wrong.

“No,” I said, “What news, are you ok?”

“Yes yes, fine.” Her hands were shaking as she took a tea from Jed, suggesting she was anything but fine. “It was announced a few hours ago, officially. Sanditon is definitely cancelled.”

She sat, or rather, collapsed into the armchair opposite me and automatically pulled a cushion onto her lap.

Jed went back to his laptop. “Honestly, you two and your Austen. I didn't get it.”

Darcy glared at him. If he hadn't had just dissed Austen, I would have felt sorry for him.

“It’s not about  _ getting _ it Jed,” she said, “It’s about  _ feeling _ it! Sidney had finally lowered his wall and let someone in, Charlotte had broken those walls and fallen in love. They should be together.”

Jed lifted his hands in surrender then rolled his eyes back to his game.

“Well, that sucks,” I said. Darcy took another sip of tea and seemed to calm down. “But we're just going to have to imagine their ending. Just because it's the end of the show, doesn't mean it's the end of their story. Characters live beyond the pages of books”

“That's the kind of thing Dad would say.” She smiled into her tea.

“Well, he was a writer after all.”

“Dad drove lorries.”

My patience was being tested now. “That was how he paid the bills. That was not _ who _ he was.”

  
  


###  Darcy

I know for certain now that I can't tell Kat about Mr Howard. Losing Dad is still too raw.

Dad had 9 books published, plus countless articles about countless topics. He was one of those people who could turn his hand to anything. A constant thirst for knowledge and a desire to challenge himself. Unfortunately, it also meant he was a dreamer, skipping from one interest to another, often changing jobs. He always ended up back driving lorries for his long-suffering best mate. Meaning we always ended up back on the breadline. Kat didn't see that though. To her, he was a writer. It was their thing. My thing was looking after them, supplying the tea and cakes, making sure they didn't starve while they were lost in their stories.

Over the top of his screen, Jed keeps flicking tentative glances between Kat and I. She’s not looking at me, chewing on a piece of her long ebony hair. Eyes back to her book, though I can tell she's not reading because they aren't moving. 

I take a breath and squeeze a grey velvet cushion between my fingers. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” Her dark eyes find mine, squinting in the middle, asking me to explain. I shake my head. “It’s just not fair. Poor Sanditon is unfinished again.”

“I've got an idea.” She smiles, tucking the piece of damp chewed hair behind her ear. “Why don't you come to my book club with me? We meet on Fridays. You don't have to come every week if you're busy but we're doing classics next month. We could suggest reading Sanditon?”

“I dunno, I've not read anything for a while…”

“It’s not like you can forget how to read Darcy. Come on.” She throws another cushion my way, it lands near my feet. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fine.” I throw it back and it hits her right in the face. In the corner of my eye, I catch Jed trying to stifle a laugh. “I’ll try it. But only if you’ll help me and Charlotte set up a proper petition for a second series.”

“Deal.”

  
  


###  Joshua

Park up my bike and head for the lifts to the offices above. Don't usually like using my bike in the wet weather but I would have been late for work this morning. Got distracted by Twitter again. It’s been a few days since the official cancellation announcement and as I expected, it did not go down well. The fans now call themselves the ‘Sisterhood.’ Numbers are constantly growing as more and more people from around the world catch up on the show. It’s quite incredible really. Never seen anything like it before.

Anyway, they have started up an official petition for a second series - which I signed straight away - and so far have a few thousand signatures. It’s sweet, and it's a start. 

They will need a hell of a lot more.

The lift door groans and creaks open. I jump out as quickly as possible. Hate the things. Too small, no air, no control. Get to my desk to find a folder sat on top of my keyboard. Yan waves over from his desk on the other side of the room as I hang my bag over the back of my chair.

“Hey yar! That is new project information Weaver left for you,” he says, grinning as always.

Nodding my thanks, I grab a coffee then settle down to go through the folder.

A quiz show.

_ A flippin quiz show! _

No scenery, no atmosphere, no… outdoor anything. I bundle all the papers back into the folder and before I know what I’m doing, my fist is knocking on Don's door. _ Oh boy. _

“Come in Josh.”

Why? What am I doing here? What did I think I was going to achieve? Don looks up as I enter the room, folder shaking in my hands, eyes down. 

“Is there a problem?” He asks.

“No, I… I just.” 

Yes, there is a problem. You've put me on a quiz show! What’s a director of photography supposed to do on a show where there's no photography needed. He’s doing that stare over the glasses thing. Tapping a finger on the desk.

“Have I…” I stutter again. “Did I do something wrong?”

He looks at me as if I’ve just asked him the most ridiculous question ever, like ‘Hey Don, do you ever draw faces on your bald head?’ Then crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Why would you think that?”

“Because… um. Because this is a quiz show? I mean, what am I supposed to do with this?”

“You're supposed to do your job and make it look good.”

“But… but… A quiz show Don!”

He takes off the glasses. I’m in for it. “Look, I know this isn't what you want to be doing but we took a hit after Sanditon. This is a quick and easy way of making up some losses. So suck it up and get on with it. You should be flattered I thought of you.”

“Flattered?”

“Yes. If there's anyone who can make yet another quiz show stand out, then it’s you. Think of it as a challenge.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more drama and the tension rises...

#  2020

#  February

#  Petition Signatures: 3025

###  Darcy

I arrive at Kat’s an hour early so we can go over the plans for sharing the petition before heading to the book club. It was Jed’s house originally. A little red brick Victorian terrace with gorgeous original tile hallways. It hadn’t taken long for Kat to put her stamp on it. Which, to be honest, I don't think Jed minded. Now, it’s decorated in fresh shades of white and grey with plenty of colorful paintings, gold accessories and boho textiles.

She hands me a coffee as I take a seat and pull out my phone ready to show her the petition progress.

“You look nice.” She smiles. “I like this.” She points to my new black shirt dress.

“Thanks. I may have done a little retail therapy last week. Don't suppose there are any nice guys at this book club eh?”  
“All taken. Sorry.”

I roll my eyes. “Always the way.”

Kat looks pretty too in her ripped jeans, slogan tee and smart jacket. Although she always does, no makeup or dressing up required.

“Anyway,” I say, handing her my phone. “This is how many signatures we have so far.”  
“I know, I’ve already signed it. And I used Jed’s email to sign for him too.”

“That’s great. You just need to keep sharing it now. Tell everyone.” She squints at me. I can tell she thinks this is silly. My hands go cold. “Come on Kat. I thought you were supposed to be the dreamer.”

“I am. I just don't know what we're supposed to do?”

  
  


###  Kat

I had never seen Darcy like this before. Especially not about anything that wasn’t work related. Normally it would have been the other way around, me getting all wrapped up and excited over something and Darcy telling me to calm down. Only, I didn't want to tell her to calm down. Something about all this brought the sparkle back to her eyes. As soon as she started talking me through the schedule of writing letters to various broadcasters, it was as though someone had plugged her back into the main power. Her feet started tapping, fingers started twirling her hair. I knew there was still something she wasn’t telling me. But she would, in her own time.

I drove us to the local coffee shop / bar where the book club met. After introducing Darcy to the others - Lydia, Shelly and Martin - I went to get us both a drink. By the time I got back she was already excitedly filling them in on Sanditon.

“I would have to agree,” said Lydia, “The ending was a complete shock. When Sidney came back, I was positive everything would be fixed but… well. I can’t believe it.”

I handed Darcy her caramel latte. “I think we were all shocked.”  
“Devastated,” she agreed. “But that’s the thing. It wasn't meant to be the ending. Even one of the writers has come out and said they were expecting it to carry on.”

The warm smell of cinnamon from my chai tea filled my lungs. “Do you think letters and petitions can really do anything though?”

“Well there's no harm in trying is there?” Her face was set and determined.

No wonder she was good at her job, she probably just gave her patients the exact same look and told them to stop being ill and get over it. A hand on my shoulder made me jump a mile.

“Hey ya guys sorry I’m late.” Jordan was always late. “What did I miss?”

I shuffled up the leather chesterfield to make space for him. “Not much, we haven't got onto books yet, we’re still on Sanditon.”

He shrugged. “Ugh that.” 

“See, everyone hated the ending!” Darcy said.

“Oh no, I wasn't on about the ending. I meant the whole thing. Not very Austen was it?”

Darcy’s eyebrows went so high they disappeared into her fringe. Everyone else went silent. Darcy was new to the group, surely she wouldn't react. But then, with her moods lately, I wasn't sure.

She calmly took a few sips of her coffee. Phew. That was close.

“So how exactly,” Darcy started, “Would you make it more Austen?”

I spoke too soon.

Jordan sat back, crossed his legs, took his time. Obviously enjoying the challenge. “Sorry but, who are you?”

“Darcy. Kat’s sister.”

“Ah. Well Darcy, I didn't have a problem with the program on the whole. Actually there was a lot I liked about it. But don't you think it was a bit, well, modern?”

This was going to open up a whole can of worms.

  
  


###  Darcy

I thought Kat had said all the guys in the book club were taken. This guy though, Jordan, the way he looked me up and down. Definitely not taken. It’s almost like he wants me to argue with him. Like he's enjoying it.

I lean forward to put down my cup and test my theory. His eyes wander down my chest, and not discreetly either.  _ Woah. _ My hands, cheeks and neck are burning. “Jane Austen was a woman ahead of her time. I would like to think that if she were alive today, she would approve of a ‘modern’ adaptation.”

“Despite the fact it deviates from the book?”

“There wasn’t a lot of book to go from so I don't think that could be helped.”

“Which is why,” Kat chips in, “I propose we read it this month for our classic book.” She’s giving me such an evil look that I almost start laughing, it looks so alien on her petite face.

The rest of the group agree to the idea then carry on talking about the last book they read. Jordan hardly says another word to me, even though his eyes are glued to my skin all night.

  
  


###  Kat

Thankfully, I managed to divert the conversation back onto books after the tiff between Jordan and Darcy. Unfortunately though, as soon as the book discussion ended - and the coffees turned into wine and cocktails - the girls moved onto men and breakups.

I was starting to remember why Darcy and I never socialized together. Whenever she was around, my brain couldn't think of words quick enough. I couldn't compete with her. So I went quiet and faded into the background. Everyone always loved her, she was open, friendly, always something funny to say. I had to work hard to make friends, it was exhausting.

Shelly was cheering as Darcy told them the story of how she kicked Matthew out. “Good on you girl! Well done.”

“Thankyou.” Darcy grinned and downed the last of her Jack and Coke. “Yup, I’m not gonna change for nobody. I am who I am. Right lil sis?” 

“Um, yeah, well sometimes change can be a good thing.” Why did I say that? Darcy’s eyes narrowed as she leant forward to challenge me. I got the sudden urge to run and hide in the toilets.

“So you think Matthew was my fault?” She was smiling, but with a raised eyebrow and sarcastic voice that felt like an ice cube sliding down my spine.

“No. No, not at all, that’s not what I meant. I just… I just think that…”

Jordan and Martin were standing over at the bar, I wished they would hurry up and come back. Darcy, Shelly and Lydia stared at me, huddled together as if they had been best friends all their life.

“I just think…” I was a grown woman with a husband, a house of my own and a job. Why was I such a wimp around her? “I just think that being completely unwilling to change for anyone seems a little selfish.”

“Selfish? Seriously?”

“Obviously there's different levels of change, I’m not saying that you completely forget who you are. But well… Ok take Darcy.”

“Pardon?” She was really glaring at me now. Finally the guys got back to the table but Darcy shushed them. “Wait a sec, Kat was about to tell me why I’m selfish.”

“I wasn't… I meant  _ Mr _ Darcy.” My shaking fingers could barely hold my cup still. “He was stuck in his ways, he was judgemental and rude. If he had refused to change we would all be sitting here calling him an idiot.” 

Martin nodded, at least someone seemed to be on my side.

“But,” I continued, “It was only when he listened to Lizzy and made an effort to change that we started to see his good qualities and warm to him. Ultimately, I think that was the greatest proof of his love for her. The fact that he let her change him. For the better.”

Darcy didn't reply. Even the rest of the bar seemed to go quiet, the temperature had risen a few degrees too. But that was probably my imagination. Martin agreed with me and carried on but I couldn't listen. I felt like I’d dive bombed into the deep end of a swimming pool, pressure coming in from all sides. Jordan offered to get Darcy another drink, I didn't think she needed another one, but at least it gave me space to breathe.

After finishing my coffee I made a move to leave. Where had Darcy gone? I picked up her coat, looking back and forth over the bar. She was nowhere to be seen.

“I think I saw her go outside with Jord,” Lydia said.

Dammit! I knew I should have warned her about him.

  
  


###  Darcy

Bloody hell Jordan can kiss. His hands are like… everywhere. All at once. It's like being hit by a hurricane made of candy floss. If you can imagine that. I can. I’d missed this. Not so much the dark alley and brick wall against my back but the excitement, the warm fuzzy feeling in my knees and stomach. The feeling of being wanted. 

His lips were finding their way over my neck when Kat called me. “Darcy! We’re leaving. NOW.”

Jordan pulls back. “I could always take you home…”

As tempting as that sounded, I hadn't completely lost all my senses. “Wo there, maybe I could get your number first?”

“Ar… yeah, I don't know.” He steps back again, throwing a glance at Kat. “I’ll see you around.” He kisses my cheek and starts walking away. “Cheers.”

Cheers.

_ Cheers? _

I stomp past Kat towards her car. “Don't say  _ anything _ .” 

It’s only when I get in the car I realise how cold I am. Great, I’d left my coat behind. I pull my arms around my body and turn up the heaters.

“It's in the back.” Kat says.

“What?”

“Your coat. It's on the backseat.”

“Oh.” I reach over to grab it then wrap it around my shoulders. “Thanks.”

Her car smells like vanilla Yankee Candles and leather polish. I can tell she's desperate to say something, her lips keep pouting and twitching as she chews the inside of her cheeks.

Mine are still tingling from the effect of Jordan's stubble.  _ Cheers?  _ What the hell was that? I pull the coat over my head and slump against the door.

“You know he’s married.” Kat whispered.

“Divorced.”

“No, that’s what he tells women. Trust me, he’s married. I've met his wife. Not that long ago either.”

I pull the coat back down and look at her. She’s not angry. Her eyes are soft, wide and worried. Like she feels sorry for me. It’s worse than her being angry. What have I done? I want to jump into a hole and hibernate for at least a year. The rest of the journey goes by in silence. Apart for the whoosh of passing cars and the occasional siren. I rest my head against the window, letting the blur of streetlights lull me into a sleepy daze. 

Kat’s hand brings me around. I open my eyes to see we've stopped. The glow of the lamp I left on in my 2nd floor apartment is peeking through the curtains.

“Darcy… what’s going on? You haven't done anything that crazy since you were 18. ”

“Nothing. I’m fine!" I snap. "I’m allowed to have fun you know. It's alright for you, you've already got your bloody perfect Mr Parker.” 

My eyes won't quite focus on her in the dark. She’s looking straight ahead over the steering wheel. Expression unreadable. It doesn't look like she’s going to say anything so I open the door to get out. 

“Darcy,” she whispers, reaching for my hand. “I’m worried about you. When you're ready to talk. You know where I am.”

When did she get so grown up? And what the hell was wrong with me? I just made out with a married man against the back wall of a bar then attacked the one person who had tried to help me.

“I know,” I say, “Thanks.” Then drag myself toward my flat and the comfort of my bed. 

Could anything else go wrong this year?

###  Kat

My boots clattered against the porch wall as I kicked them off. Jed called from upstairs to make sure I wasn't a burglar. Taking the old rickety steps two at a time, I ran up and practically threw myself onto the bed with a groan. 

“I know that face.” He put down his laptop. “It normally means that either your mother just called, you just realised you've made an error in one of your reports or you've had an argument with your sister.”

I rolled onto my side and pushed my face into his warm chest. “Guess.”

“Well…” He started stroking my hair. “You very rarely make errors, it's too late for your Mom to be up so I'm going with your sister?” 

“Correct.” I drew imaginary patterns onto his skin. “I think I managed to call her selfish. But then she got off with Jordan.”

“She what? The married douche bag? You're joking?”

“Nope.”

His arms tightened around me, chest shook as he chuckled. His skin was so soft… As for Jordan, I wanted to punch his smug face. His poor wife!

“One thing’s for certain,” I said, “I will not be going back to that book club.” 

Only two months into 2020 and it was bombing already. Whatever next?

  
  


###  Joshua

Hate quiz shows. Literally could make a program about paint drying that would be more exciting than this. Maybe I should pitch it at the next meeting? I mean come on, if they’re happy to approve a quiz show called ‘Hit Me’ over a second series of Sanditon then who knows. Paint Drying Live could be the next big thing.

Not even the end of February and could this year get any worse?


	8. Chapter 8

# 2020

# March

# Petition Signatures: 6384

### Darcy

Something odd is going on. It’s the first week of March and I've just been called into a meeting at 8am. When I walk in, I see members of the hospital board along with department heads. We never meet up with the suits in March, especially not at 8am. The stuffy meeting room is packed so I sidle up to Dr Chen who's standing at the back, swiping a jammy dodger from the table as I go.

“Mornin’ Zhi, do you know what all this is about?” I ask her.

She flicks her wild black hair over her shoulders. “I’m guessing it's something to do with a Coronavirus update, but other than that.” Shrug, a roll of her eyes. “I’m just the lowly A&E consultant, I’m at the bottom of the memo list.”

One of the older suits stands and calls the room to attention. I can't remember his name, I’ve only ever seen him in pictures. All I do know is he's the big wig, top of the food chain. He reminds me of John Wayne, only with a queen's English accent.

Mr Wayne starts off, “As you all are aware, the situation with COVID-19 has now become a Pandemic. We expect major announcements to be made by the government within the coming weeks. Case numbers are escalating so starting today, the hospital and its procedures will be undergoing serious changes.”

Pandemic. It’s one of those words that we all knew but had never used. My blood dropped to my feet. Zhi started scratching marks into her empty polystyrene cup with a fingernail. Mr Wayne carried on explaining how the hospital would be split into sections, so areas could be quarantined. The staff would also be divided into set teams, who would then work on shift rotas so there was no cross-contamination and as little contact with others as possible. Bloody hell.

Then he started asking for volunteers.

“We're going to need members of our senior staff to lead each team. Which is why most of you are here today. We also would prefer to get volunteers to work on the new COVID wards. Staff working on these wards will need to isolate themselves from others. As many of you have families at home, we appreciate this will not be easy. However, if we do not have enough come forward, we will be forced to pick the staff.”

I glance at Zhi. Neither of us has family living at home. We give each other a nod.

As we walk out of the room an hour later, our names are the first on the volunteer's list.

  
  


### Kat

Jed walked in from work with a cloud over his face. He was so handsome when he was broody; dark eyes narrowed, little creases over his brow, lips puckered. I felt guilty for enjoying it, he’d obviously had a bad day. His curly hair was especially unruly, a sign that he’d been anxiously messing with it.

I got up from the desk and went to meet him. He didn't even answer my hello, just simply wrapped his arms around me, pulling my head to his chest and surrounding me in a warm, strong and purely Jed scented grip. I was afraid to ask what was wrong so I looked up and held his lightly stubbled face.

“It’s ok.” He mustered a smile. “Long day, lots of meetings, lots of changes happening.”

“Because of Corona?”

He nodded and set his hands around my waist. “Have you heard from Darcy yet?”

“No.” Not since the book club night. I’d sent her a text and she had liked a few of my Sanditon tweets but still nothing. She wasn't one to be pushed.

“Hmm, I think you should give her a call, invite her over. Your mother too.”

 _“Mom?”_ I scowled. “Jed, what’s going on? Is it really getting that bad?”

“I just think you should try and see them while we're still allowed to.”

“Ok.”

He pulled my lips to his and momentarily forgot all about the weird conversation until he let go and headed upstairs to change.

  
  


####  **Hey Darcy, Look, I’m sorry about everything, I never meant you were selfish in the slightest, I’m just worried about you, please talk to me x Moms coming over to mine for Sunday lunch. Pray for me!!! Would love you to join us… x Kat**

####  **19:38**

  
  


####  **See you Sunday then xxx D**

####  **19:45**

That was about as much of an apology I could expect. For Darcy, that message was actually pretty emotional. I don’t think she had ever given three ‘x’s to anyone.

  
  


### Joshua

Lunch break. Find myself sitting on the wall of the car park next to my bike, it’s the only quiet place away from all the new show hype and buzz going on in the offices. The presenter for ‘Hit Me’ has come in to take a look at the ideas and set up so far. Filming is due to start in a few weeks. Can't wait.

Almost spit ham sandwich everywhere laughing at the latest Sanditon tweets. Some of GIF’s going around… Ha! Genius. Especially when it seems to come to the naked Mr Parker scenes. Oh boy… What has this show started! 

The petition has doubled since the last time I looked. Plus they now have schedules of writing to broadcasters and TV companies. Even some of the cast are talking about getting involved. I wonder… surely it wouldn't hurt if I helped out? They are supporting one of our shows after all.

  
  


### Kat

Sunday lunch was arranged for 1pm. Mom decided to turn up at 11.50am. Within a few minutes, she was already inspecting the house - which is why I had spent all morning and most of the previous day cleaning. Barely 10 minutes into her visit and she asked to use the toilet, I knew it was only a foil to look upstairs. I was always careful to shut the bedroom doors, yet whenever she went to use the ‘bathroom’ they would always somehow have magically opened themselves. Sometimes the wardrobe doors too. Did she honestly not think I wouldn't notice? 

A suspiciously long time later, she reappeared. “Still haven't changed that carpet on the stairs then? It’s looking very tired Catherine.”

“No Mom, we haven't had chance.” Or the money. 

I handed her a cup of tea - which had to be in a china cup and saucer - and steered her out of the kitchen into the lounge. Before sitting down, she pulled the knitted blanket from off the back of the sofa and laid it out across the cushions.

“Wouldn't want to get anything on your furniture.” She smiled. 

I didn't bother to argue that it would actually be harder to get the fine glitter from her sari out of the blanket than it would be to brush it off the leather chair. It was one of her best outfits; Deep forest green with gold embroidery, really rather beautiful. So implying that it made a mess would have offended her. Not that it was difficult to offend Mom. 

Passing her the TV remote I told her to make herself at home and gave the excuse of going to help Jed.

He grinned at me over his shoulder when I got back to the kitchen. “Here.” He passed me a wooden spoon. “If you're going to hide, you can at least make it look like you're doing something. Stir that.” He pointed to the saucepan of gravy simmering on the stove.

“Do you think,” I wondered, “I should try and talk to Darcy about the other night, or just act like nothing happened?”

Jed was on hands and knees peering into the over. “It depends, was it serious enough to warrant a discussion?” He asked, standing, towel over his shoulder again, hand rubbing through his hair, head tilted. “Or was it one of those things you're happy to just look over and forget, write off as a bad day?”

I could have filled several diaries with all of the bad days that I’d written off for Darcy.

“I don't know. That's the problem,” I admitted. “Something’s up with her. I’m worried she's going to keep making the same mistakes, throw herself at the next man, get herself hurt again.”

“Then talk to her.”

“She won't listen to me. She thinks I have a perfect life and you're the perfect man.”

Standing behind me, he looked over my shoulder to check on my gravy stirring. Seriously, how hard could gravy be? “And you don't think I’m perfect?” His deep voice whispering into my ear sent a tingle down my neck.

“You’re perfect for me. But no, you're not perfect.” I teased. “No one is. Unfortunately, Darcy seems to think good looking equals perfect.”

“Ah, so I am at least good looking, if not perfect?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Stop it. You know you are.” 

He disappeared behind a cupboard door. I was surprised that Darcy never went for Jed. She met him first after all, and she was single at the time. Tall, dark, rugged; he was definitely her type. The thought made me shudder.

“The problem with your sister,” he said, reappearing with a stack of plates. “Is that she’s so obsessed with finding her own Mr Darcy, or now Mr Parker, that she fails to see that she _is_ Mr Parker.”

“Huh?”

He set the plates down and took a breath, as though he was embarrassed about what he was about to say. “Well, she's the moody dark one, isn’t she? All secrets and walls. She judges people on how they look. What she actually needs is a Lizzy or a Charlotte.”

“You're saying she needs to find herself a woman?”

“No, I... I mean, not that that would be…” I started smiling at his stuttering. “Oh, you know what I mean. She needs someone softer, but also not afraid to tell her when she's wrong.”

“I knew you secretly liked Austen.”

“I can still see the TV and hear things while I’m managing Man City you know.”

Reaching for his shirt, I pulled him closer.

I burnt the gravy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for the sake of easy reading, I have greatly simplified all the organisation and procedures that went into - and are still going into - the work behind the NHS and for all our amazing key workers. 
> 
> Plus, if you're wondering... Yes, I was thinking of the wonderful Sandra Oh when describing Dr Zhi Chen 😉


	9. Chapter 9

###  Kat

Laying out the plates on the dining table, I called Mom in from the lounge. She walked in checking her watch.

“Yes, I know, it's late,” I said, “We were waiting for Darcy.”

She was 15 minutes late. I worried she wasn’t going to turn up at all, that would be just like her. Finally, the doorbell rang.

“Sorry sorry sorry,” she chimed as I let her in.

“We did wait, but you know what Moms like.”

“Don't I just.” She slipped off her coat. “Why do you think I wore this?” With a roll of her large grey eyes, she waved a hand at her clothes. A black Punjabi suit with loose trousers and red beaded edges, sheer shimmery dupatta scarf. 

I had to admit, my sister was stunning. People never believed we were sisters. My heritage was easily seen thanks to my darker skin, hair and eyes whereas Darcy inherited Dad’s fairness and high, wide cheekbones. She looked like Celtic warrior queen - with a permanent sunkissed tan - and had the attitude of one too.

Darcy’s outfit earned a smile and praise from our Mother. I then got a stern glance. Darcy one - Kat nill. I didn't get it, one minute we were supposed to be the perfect English girls, the next we were being told off for forgetting our culture.

Thankfully, the rest of the afternoon went smoothly. It wasn’t until Jed offered to take Mom home that I was able to talk to Darcy alone. She joined me at the sink to dry up while I washed, completely shocking me when she opened the conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry about the book club,” she said, “I honestly didn't know he was married, you know I would never do that.” 

“I know.”

“You know he actually thanked me? Like, I mean he said ‘cheers.’ As if I'd just served him in a shop or something.” She laughed, then shook her shoulders. “Eugh.”

“Darcy… Do you think, maybe you need to change the kind of guys you go for?”

“Probably. But hey, don't worry. I’m definitely not going to be meeting any more guys any time soon.”

  
  


###  Darcy

Kat’s face drops as I tell her about the possible changes happening to my job and the new COVID wards. Her delicate thin fingers are frozen around a wine glass, long curled eyelashes beating furiously.

“But,” she says, black-brown flicking up then back to the sink. “Won't that be dangerous?”

“It will be as safe as possible I guess. We don't really know what to expect. But I can't not do anything.”

“And I won't be able to see you?”

“No, I’ll have to isolate, just in case I carry it to other people.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure it won't be for long. You won't miss me.”

Out of the blue, she hugs me. I resist my natural instinct to pull away or push her off.

“I’ll be fine Kitty Kat,” I promise. “And anyway, while I’m locked away in my place, it means I can spend more time saving Sanditon!”

I fill Kat in on the latest updates. Charlotte and I now manage the fan page together. It's slightly bizarre that we speak everyday yet have never met. She seems like a nice person though. Few years older than me, married with 2 young children. We have now set up a calendar with different goals for each day. Some days are spent targeting certain TV studios or companies, others are focused on tweets. Our hashtag is regularly trending, the petition and fandom are growing. This week, we even had a few replies from crew members who said they would be willing to join in live Q&A Twitter sessions.

“How cool will that be! Someone will have to take notice of us soon enough.” I say, pouring us both a glass of wine. “Have you seen the fanfiction that's been going around?” She shakes her head as I follow her to the lounge. “You should check it out. Even better, you should write some!”

“Write fanfiction?” She laughs.

“Yes! Kat, you should write an ending! You said you were supporting this for Jane rather than for the TV show, so do it, finish the novel!”

I’m so excited by this idea I'm practically falling off the edge of my seat. She doesn't reply, just sits drinking her wine, chewing a nail.

“Come on Kat, have a go. You love Austen. Do it for us, please?”

“There's a bit of a difference between loving Austen and writing Austen Darcy! I don’t know anything about the time period, the language, manners… rules… I've not even read Sanditon yet!”

Glass half empty again. “Kat, we don't want a historically accurate masterpiece, we just want Charlotte to have a happy ending.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “With who, Sidney or Stringer?”

“Sidney of course.”

“Then we already disagree.”

Why did that not surprise me? When did we ever agree? “Fine. Start writing, and see where it takes you. And think about it like this… who would Austen choose.”

  
  


###  Kat

Darcy seemed to think writing was as easy as just sitting at a keyboard and hey presto words came out. As if. It was going to need research - reading the original book for a start - then I’d have to outline, make a plot and timeline. And how would I know who Austen would choose for Charlotte?

Sidney.

She probably would have gone with Sindey. Love was a great redemption arc after all. 

Darcy was sitting opposite, eyebrow arched, watching the cogs turn in my head. “Come on Kat.” She smiled. “Have a laugh. For me.”

Oh, I don't know, maybe it would be fun to try something completely different.

“If you won't do it for Jane, or for the sisterhood or for me, do it for Dad, he would have loved to read your ending.”

She knew my Achilles heel alright. Damn it. I didn't have a choice now.

  
  


###  Darcy

I climb into bed and pull the duvet over my head then immediately open up Twitter. People have been tweeting all day, as usual. There’s a certain GIF of the lead actor in the buff, followed by several comments that make me laugh so much I drop my phone, right onto my face. I tell you what, mobiles are heavier than they look when they hit you right between the eyes.

**@TheRealMissDarcy** OMG you lot make me laugh so much it hurts!

**@fortheloveofnoah** Glad to be of service @TheRealMissDarcy xxx

**@MrsSidneyP** Ok folks, 3 things on desert island GO!

**@MrsCharlotteParker** Easy one @MrsSidneyP - Sidney, Sidney, SIDNEY!

**@fortheloveofnoah** @MrsSidneyP haha yea NOAH, lifetime supply of food. Oh and more NOAH!

  
**@Sanditonlover** I know one thing I  _ wouldn't  _ bother taking @MrsSidneyP …. Clothes! ;-p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small chapter I know... Kinda had a writer's block lately. That's the problem of post as you write I guess! I looked back over the last chapter and was like 'Nah, I don't like that anymore.' But I have to keep going! 😂 I will try and write myself out of the hole... After all, I don't normally have anyone reading my first draft (sorry!) It feels quite intense! But hey ho... bear with me ;-)
> 
> In the meantime, I'm still posting chapters of my finished original story (All The Days) as I'm editing them.
> 
> Elle xxx


	10. Chapter 10

#  Lockdown

#  Petition Signatures: 15964

###  Darcy

As an A&E nurse, we’re taught to expect the unexpected. We see all kinds of crazy stuff, horrors and heartbreak. But this? This is another level. Three weeks into our new routine and I’m still not used to it. My heart rate still rises. My stomach still churns during the journey into work. I’m terrified but I'm not allowed to show it. I've never been so busy; I've never been so alone.

By the time I arrive at work, the only scrubs left are in large. It means I’ll have to roll up the legs a few inches and tie the waist as tight as it will go to stop them from falling off. They don't even match; the top is blue, bottoms are green. With a roll of my eyes, I grab them anyway, strip down to my underwear and stash my own clothes in a locker. Usually, I would keep them on underneath, but with all the added PPE we now have to wear, it's too hot. A gown goes on first over the scrubs, then gloves - which fit tightly over the gown sleeves so there are no gaps - mask next and finally visor.

Pip is waiting for me in the corridor. Up until a few weeks ago, I’d only seen her in passing. Now we are both part of staffing ‘Team A’ with Dr Chen as our Senior so, other than the other members of our team, she's one of the few people I have contact with. 

Her face is hidden by the glare of lights across her visor but the Cockney accent gives her away. Plus she's built like an amazonian wonder woman. “Someone’s rocking the baggy pants look again I see!”

I laugh and take the next few steps toward her as if I'm on a catwalk. “Don’t get jealous because I can make it look good.” I really don’t, the bunched up trousers make me look like a clown, a clown who happens to have serious germaphobia.

As I get closer her smile disappears. Or at least, I think it does. I can only see her eye’s; they soften, droop, lose their sparkle.

“You alright?” She asks, “Looks like you haven't slept in days?”

“Feels like I haven't slept in days.”

“Chin up babes. Half-day today yeah?” She goes to put an arm around me then remembers she’s not supposed to touch me.

“Yup. Five hours then I'm free for a whole weekend.”

“Any plans?”

We start climbing a chilly concrete staircase.

“Loads,” I tease, “You know, I thought I’d go for drinks, have a party with my family, maybe do some shopping, see a show…”

We both start laughing and making general ‘arrr the good old days’ sort of sounds. Knowing full well that neither of us - or anyone for that matter - during our current nationwide lockdown, will be doing any of those things. Once we're up the stairs, I stop, take a deep breath and check my mask is still in place - even though I've already checked it several times since putting it on 10 minutes ago.

“Here we go,” I say.

Pip cock’s an eyebrow so high it disappears into her dark fringe. “See you on the other side.”

Together, we push open the double doors and walk through into the ward now named: COVID 1.

  
  


###  Kat

So it turned out that Sanditon the book was quite different from the series. I read a few articles about it to find out more. Jane Austen wrote it just before her death, possibly a reason why health was a large theme of the story. Sanditon itself was painted as a ‘modern’ up and coming town, something which Austen didn’t seem too keen on. She was well known for and had been quoted on, her love of staying at home and its comforts.

A few chapters in and I found myself smiling at the descriptions of Tom Parker, with his unwavering enthusiasm for his building project and complete faith in Sanditons ability to heal every one of everything via the sea, the air or any combination thereof.

I left Jed to watch  _ Match Of The Day _ , headed up to bed and called Darcy once I was tucked up in the duvet.

“Hey,” she answered groggily.

“Sorry, I thought you'd still be up…”

“Yeah, I am, I'm just writing.”

I’d never known Darcy write anything. “For work?”

“No, we're writing letters this week.”

Ah, of course, the Save Sanditon campaign. She really was getting very serious about it; It gave her something positive to focus on. I almost felt sorry for whoever would receive her letters, she was not one to mince her words.

“Who are you writing to?” I asked, pulling the duvet up higher to hide from the cool air.

She yawned. “I've done a few. Mostly TV people. But I think I’m going to write to the cast too.”

“How would you do that?”

“You can write to their agencies, or I might just send them straight to the producer I suppose… I found an address for a Don Weaver who seems to be the top guy at RIVA TV.”

Wow, she really had been doing her research.

  
  


###  Joshua

Three weeks into lockdown. Novelty has worn off of living on my own. I like being on my own but at least I had the option of seeing people before. 

Bored. No job. Bored. No one to talk to. Bored. 

Feel bad for moaning about being bored when other people are going through hell. Must find things to do. Will order more books, teach myself something, something new. Could do some DIY? Painting maybe? Hate not doing anything. At least being out of work was no fault of my own - all the studios and offices were shut down - but still, makes me feel useless.

Keeping up with all the Sanditon tweets is becoming my full-time job. They make me smile. Don gave me permission to post all the photos I took while filming, it's been incredible getting to share them with people who love the series as much as I do… as I did.

Get back to my apartment from my daily bike ride, crack open a beer and open up Twitter. There’s a message waiting for me from MrsCharlotteParker asking if I would be interested in hosting one of the live Q&A nights. Electricity shoots down my fingers. I type my reply and acceptance and hit send before my nerves can talk me out of it.


	11. Chapter 11

#  Petition Signatures: 20031

  
  


###  Darcy

Halfway through my first week of night shifts. Five more patients were added to my section on the ward, 3 men, 2 women. One of them, Simon, is only 28. A builder, runs marathons, fit as a fiddle and has no health problems yet he’s failing quicker than 60-year-old Maria next to him who recently had pneumonia. None of it makes any sense.

Maria is still awake as I make my final rounds, I notice she’s reading  _ Wives and Daughters _ , a classic novel. I vaguely remember the plot from watching the series with Dad and Kat.

“You're supposed to be sleeping,” I whisper with a smile.

She chuckles and lifts her oxygen mask. “Sorry darlin’ I got to a good bit.”

I run through her checks and ask if she's heard of Sanditon. She had. Twenty minutes after my shift had ended and we were still talking about it.

“I’m not sure if there's any point writing really though,” I say, “I doubt actors actually read their mail.”

“What's the harm, sounds like fun to me!”

She was right. What harm could it do? I didn't think contacting the crew would work either but a few days ago Charlotte had a reply from none other but the Director of Photography of RIVA TV, a guy called Joshua Coleman, who has agreed to join us for a Twitter night next month. I straight away looked up what the DoP did. Basically, I think, he works alongside the director and manages what everything looks like, so the lighting, framing etc as well as managing the cameras. He's one of the top guys so this is a massive and awesome breakthrough. My stomach ties itself in knots every time I think about it.

Dragging my heavy feet along the long, dim corridors, I head back to the changing areas and dispose of my PPE and scrubs. The gloves are stuck to my raw skin, sore from constant washing and sanitisers.

I pass the doors to the Oncology ward on my way out and peer through. Mr Howard is missing. A nurse catches my eye and comes towards the door, I quickly wave my badge to stop her from opening it, then point to his bed. “Mr Howard?”

She shakes her head and briefly lowers her mask so I can lip read. “Sorry.” Her face says the rest.

I thought the quarantine would have been over by now and that I would have been able to see him again before it was… before it was too late.

On the way home I start scribbling down ideas for letters on the back of an old Starbucks receipt. Tears are stinging my eyes. To hell with it, I’m going to write to everyone. Even Noah Jones. Who knows what might happen tomorrow. We all deserve a happy ending once in a while.

  
  


###  Kat

Jed joined me on the sofa and slid an arm around my waist, dark eyes peering over my shoulder to look at my book.

He lifted the copy of Sanditon out of my hand, turned it to see the cover, then gave it back. “I didn’t think Austen finished it?” 

“She didn’t.”

“Then what’s the point in reading it?” His nose nuzzled into my hair and I completely lost my place on the page.

“Because,” I replied, trying not to giggle. “I'm studying it more than reading. Darcy wants me to write an ending. But I don't know where to start.” The truth was, I was finding it a little hard to follow - and not just because of Jed’s large hands playing through my hair.

“That's what you always say, but then a hundred thousand words later...”

I pulled away from his kiss. “You think I should do it?”

“I think...” With a smile, he pulled me onto his lap. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” I started unbuttoning his shirt.   
  


###  Joshua

Knock on my door startles me from my reading. I’m not expecting any deliveries and no one is supposed to visit. With a glance through the window, my surprise and unease only get worse.

Crack open my front door. “Don? Is everything alright?”

He takes a few steps back but leaves what looks like a bin bag on the steps. “Yes no problem, I just brought you these.” He points at the bag.

Open the bag, it’s full of envelopes, letters by the looks of it addressed to RIVA, some to me, some to Don, some even to… to Noah Jones and the cast of Sanditon. 

My head is swimming. “I don’t understand, what are these?”

“We’ve been getting a lot of mail from that fan club of yours.”

“You mean the Sanditon fans?”

“Yes, them. I know how disappointed you were and I, well, I thought you might like to see the response from others.” 

With what seems like a tired sigh, he removes his glasses, cleans them and puts them back on. Don lives on his own too. Both his sons live abroad.

“I would offer you a drink if, you know, if I could.” I give him a smile instead.

“I know, thanks. Don't worry. Enjoy the letters, some of them are quite entertaining!” With that, he leaves me and the bag alone.

It’s heavier than it looks. I drag it across the tiles of my hall and into the lounge, where I sit on the floor and start sorting the letters into piles. One for each of the different recipients. The pile addressed to myself is surprisingly big. I've never received mail from fans before. My name is always on the credits for my work, but I'm always on the wrong side of the camera to be noticed. That’s the way I like it though. Unnoticed.

The biggest pile - of course - is for Noah. Quite a number of the envelopes are decorated, some are even scented. One smells exactly like my mother's perfume. A laugh shakes my body; it wouldn’t surprise me if it was from her. 

Check my phone. Noah’s number is still in my contacts list. What would I say? Should I even bother saying anything?

“Hello Josh, this is a surprise, how can I help?” His deep tones rumble through the speaker. He remembers who I am though, and must have my number saved, that's a good start.

Apologise for bothering him, briefly tell him the reason for calling and about the letters. My voice self-consciously drops a pitch to try and match his.

“I’m afraid I’m out of the country,” he says, “And it doesn't look like I’ll be back soon, sorry. Look, you do whatever you think, pass them on to my agency if you want, they can send out some standard replies.”

Standard replies? Figures. He probably gets so many he doesn't even read them anymore. Thank him again, wish him well and hang up.

None of my letters were perfumed. Wonder what his say… Before my brain has a chance to catch up, my fingers are ripping open one of his envelopes. It's a short letter, a fan just saying how much they loved him as Mr Parker and how much they wished for another series. The next few letters are all along the same lines. Some contain pictures. One takes me by complete surprise with a very graphic description of a dream about Sidney and Charlotte. Good grief. I stop halfway through to get a beer out the fridge, take a gulp then press the cool bottle to my face. Someone should offer this woman a job writing screenplays.

The next letter is in a plain envelope and addressed formally to ‘Mr Jones.’

  
  
\---  
  


Dear Mr Jones,

I've never written anything like this before. A letter to someone I've never met that is. Or ‘Fanmail.’ Wow, even the word Fanmail is a little cringey isn't it? Anyway, I am writing because I loved the show that you were in; Sanditon. I was completely shocked and upset to find out that it would not be completed. Since then, I have found that many others, as I’m sure you’re aware, also feel the same way and have joined online with the aim of bringing it back for a second series.

This week we are attempting to write to as many people involved within the creation of Sanditon as possible, to share our reasons for why we loved it.

I have a few reasons really. 

ONE is that everything about the show itself was beautifully made and it truly deserves to continue.

TWO  is that my father was a true Jane Austen lover. I was brought up reading and watching her stories, in fact, my sister and I can rarely have a conversation without quoting from one of her books. The world loves Austen, her stories make us feel good because they are safe! We know there's going to be a happy ending, so we can relax and enjoy the bumps and twists along the way. So it is such a shame that her novel seems doomed to be left unfinished once again.

THREE is more complicated to explain. You see, I am a nurse. I now work on a COVID ward and well, I have seen more things that I wish I could forget over these weeks than I have in the last 10 years. 

So yes, I know that I am writing to you about just a book, just a TV show that in the grand scheme of things is trivial and unimportant and a fantasy. But that's kind of the point. Every day I get home wanting to bury myself under my duvet and cry and scream but every day I have found myself being made to laugh by the spirit and friendship and unwavering determination of the Sanditon fans. (Even if we are all a little crazy at times!)

So that’s why Sanditon means so much more to me. It has become my lifeline, my survival, my escape. And I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. The country… no, I’ll l say it - the World needs a little bit of fantasy, love and hope right now. 

We are fighting for more than just a happy ending for Sidney and Charlotte, we are fighting for OUR happy ending.

I hope that makes some sort of sense to you. I'm not even sure if you will actually get this letter. It’s probably being read by someone in an office. (Hi there!) But if by some wild chance you do, then any kind of response or message would be so, so much appreciated. 

Our official Twitter account is @MrsCharlotteParker.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Darcy Baxter.

  
\---

After re-reading the letter again, I sit holding it, staring at the words so they blur and smudge over the page. It’s not a star letter or work of literary genius but something about it has reached inside my chest and wrapped around my heart. Even the handwriting with all its scrawls and splodges feels raw and honest. Pained even. She deserves a reply. And not just some bog standard, pre-signed thankyou note.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat starts writing and Darcy gets a letter 😉

#  Petition Signatures 31138

  
  


###  Kat

I finished reading Sanditon. It hit me just as hard as the series did. Sidney Parley was literally in it for one page. He and Charlotte didn't even get to have a conversation. They were due to meet up and wham! The end. 

No no no. My chest ached from the injustice. Miss Lambe hadn't even arrived and The Stringer barely mentioned in passing. The Parkers also had a sister called Susan but Lady Susan was nonexistent. Sidney himself was described as being 'saucy' and 'very good looking.' Charlotte was so sensible, she could almost be called dull. Dammit. I was going to have to forget the book and just follow on from the show. I may not have been up to writing an entire ending, but I could have a go at a scene… or two. Maybe.

\---

Mr. Sidney Parker looked on in anguish as the carriage carrying Miss Charlotte Heywood faded into the misty horizon. In doing so, it divided his soul from spirit, heart from body, mind from sense.

He questioned himself - why had he foolishly thought to come and stop her? - whilst absently soothing his restless horse. The glimpse of hope that had lit her dark handsome eyes, only to then behold it extinguished by his incompetent and insufficient apology would haunt him forever. Now shivering against the cool evening air, he mounted up and headed for Trafalgar House hoping that the usual chaos found there would be enough to occupy the entirety of his thoughts.

Upon his entry, it was Mary Parker - his sister in-law - who welcomed him. “Sidney, we did not expect you or I should have had a place laid for you at the table!” For they were about to finish their meal.

“Do not trouble yourself Mary. I am not hungry.” 

Sidney replied with a weary thanks, to which his brother, Tom Parker, raised a glass.

“Ah, then we shall adjourn to the study, we have much to discuss--”

“Tom, pray,” An interjection from Mary caught Tom off guard. “Do you not see that your poor brother is quite worn out. No more talk of business tonight, I beg you. If you would be so kind as to see the children to bed, I shall arrange for Sidney to take tea.”

“But Mary, you heard the man, he is not hu--”

“Tom! Please.” A stern glance from Mary was all it took to quieten her husband.

Not wanting to upset her any further, Tom obeyed - for it had been a very trying week in which he had been forced to return a necklace gifted to his wife in order to pay off debts.

Retiring to the drawing room, Mary gestured towards a seat by the fire. “Do sit, Sidney. Indeed you do look quite pale, are you ill? Shall I have something fetched for you?”

“Thank you, Mary, but I am well.”

“Then perhaps a little of Tom’s brandy?” She called for some to be brought at once. “That will soon have you back to yourself. Though, I fear you feel at a loss, as I do.”

“Sanditon’s losses are great indeed.”

“Yes, yes of course. Though, that is not the loss I meant.”

A few minutes of somber yet companionable silence passed between them. Sidney received his brandy and sipped at it, gazing unfocused into the fire until an unexpected question from Mary caused him to choke and look to her in surprise.

“How was Charlotte as she left?”

“Miss Heywood?”

“Yes.” Mary confirmed. “That was who you dashed off for earlier?” Sidney’s non-response only emboldened her questioning. “I am a married woman with a house and children, there is not much that escapes my attention. Except for my own husbands foolish financial decisions it seems.”

Sidney perceived her expression to be one of disappointment and sorrow. “Tom’s foolishness was in no way your fault Mary. If only he had been honest with you, I am sure your wise counsel would have prevented this whole situation. A fact which I will not let him forget.”

With a wry smile Mary replied, “There is no use rubbing salt into his wounds. Tom knows he has done wrong but he will not stop until all is put right, I am sure of it. And you.” A nod in Sidney direction. “Avoided my question. I did think, a few times, at the ball for instance, that you were quite taken by Charlotte. That perhaps you two were--”

“Forgive me Mary, but I would rather not speak of it.”

“Oh, Sidney! Then it is true?” Again he gave no reply. “You cannot make this sacrifice, Tom may have been a fool but he would not allow you to take this upon yourself if he knew the truth. He still thinks that you are in love with Mrs. Campion.”

“And that is what he will continue to think Mary.” He raised a hand to her protests. “I shall not watch my family name brought down to the gutter or see you and my nephews and nieces thrown out of your home with no inheritance. No. I shall marry Eliza. Then, Tom will pay off his debts, the insurance will be put in place and Sanditon will be rebuilt. This is my decision, and mine alone.” 

Standing to lean against the fireplace, Sidney spoke with the air of one who would not be dissuaded from his course. There were no other options. Investors would not dare touch Sanditon now, its future - and the future of the Parkers - was hopeless.

“I confess,” Sidney continued, in a manner of resigned finality. “The announcement of my marriage was not the one I intended to make. However, I will do as Char… As Miss Heywood instructed and try to make Eliza happy. We were happy once. And although I do not care for her as I thought I once did, I also can no longer hate her. She was, after all, a woman in need of security and stability, of which at the time, I could not offer her. Therefore, who am I to bear a grudge? In truth, she acted out of self preservation with no more deceit or malice than I. Perhaps we deserve each other.”

“Oh, Sidney!” Mary again exclaimed, although this time with much more sadness. “I have no words.” For she knew that whenever Sidney set his mind to a course, there was no changing it. Stubbornness was a Parker family trait. “How will you bear it?”

Pouring another brandy, he replied, “I will attempt to bear it the way you have borne these tragic last few weeks my dear Sister. With dignity. And, I dare say.” He raised a glass. “With a great deal more of Tom’s brandy!”

Tom returned to join the drawing room “What is that you say about my brandy? Yes yes, you take as much as you wish, the nerves are getting to you eh brother? Do not fear, you are soon to be married, Mrs. Campion shan't escape you again!”

“No Tom. There is no escape.” A final swig of brandy. “Now, if it's no bother Mary, I will stay here until leaving for London?”

“Of course,” she replied, “You are always welcome here, for as long and as often as you need.”

Sidney's reason for wanting to stay was twofold. The lively bustle of the children would serve as a welcome distraction from his upcoming matrimony. They would also act as a deterrent to ward off any visits - more than were absolutely necessary - from Eliza, who found the company of children to be wearisome and unwelcome. 

Charlotte bore the journey from Sanditon to her family home of Willingdon with great courage. Thankfully, for the most part, she was alone and therefore able to sit in silent contemplation, allowing her thoughts to review events of the past few weeks. Had not Mr. Parker so much as proposed? Or at the very least, given the promise of a proposal? No, perhaps she was mistaken all along. She was not, after all, a worldly woman experienced in the ways of modern London gentlemen. Yet, the words he had spoken, feelings he had shared, his behavior on the day of the ball, on the clifftops…

How much there was she wished to seek advice on from her sister. How much there was she would have to conceal.

\---

Hmm, well. It needed work. I resisted the urge to delete it all and start over and instead, emailed it to Darcy and Jed. Normally I would NEVER share my writing with anyone until at least 2 re-writes plus several rounds of edits in between.

  
  


###  Darcy

  
  


Dear Miss Baxter,

I was grateful and very much humbled to receive your recent letter. Thank you for supporting Sanditon. As you said, it was beautifully made, though as only a small cog in a vast machine, I cannot take the credit.

Like you and your family, I too have been a lifelong fan of Jane Austen, so getting to work on one of her books (or part of a book!) was a dream. The conversations you have with your sister, remind me of the ones I have with my Mum. Is there such a thing as a situation where you cannot use an Austen quote? 

I cannot begin to imagine the situations you must face at work, and no, your reasons for watching and enjoying Sanditon are not trivial!

The whole reason I got into the industry was because of something similar, which is why your letter touched me. Growing up, my family had very little and my parents worked all the hours going to support myself and my siblings. Some of my fondest and earliest memories are of us all, squashed on a threadbare sofa, watching a film on a Sunday afternoon. (Usually a western if my Dad had a say.) For those few hours the stress of life would disappear and it didn't matter that we had nothing, because we were together - we had everything.

So, even though I cannot visibly support your campaign (for various boring legal reasons) please know that I too am praying for it to be continued and finished.

I’m curious, does your name have anything to do with your family's love of Austen? And do you have to work directly with Covid patients? That must be… well, I don't know what that must be... Is it really as bad as we hear?

Take care,

Noah.

\---

What? WHAT! Whaaaaat the hell? My hands wont stop shaking. I read the letter again. And again.

NOAH JONES REPLIED! 

I’m going to have a heart attack. This seriously cannot be happening. I mean, this is more than just a reply, this is a detailed and emotional response. He’s even asked me questions. That means… that means he wants me to answer them?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is happy and Kat gets emotional... again!

# Petition Signatures: 33996

### Kat

When Darcy rang me the following morning, I thought she was being murdered. I answered the phone to hear her screaming, only to realize a few seconds later what she was actually saying.

“NOAH JONES REPLIED TO MY LETTER!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupted, “Slow down. You wrote to Noah Jones?”

“Yes! I thought I told you about that? Anyway, HE REPLIED!”

I managed to get her to calm down again, then she read me her letter, followed by his reply.

“So?” She asked, waiting.

I was shocked. For a few reasons. I could see why her letter would touch him. She had opened up more of herself to him then she had to me and that… well, I wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. In a way, I was ashamed to say it made me jealous. It also made me incredibly proud of her. Writing was a way of pouring out your heart on a page, that was something I _could_ understand. Mostly I was shocked that he had taken the time to personally reply, and to take an interest enough to ask further questions.

“Darcy I, I don’t know what to say. This is fantastic! Honestly, amazing! You need to reply straight away.”

“Durr, yeah! Of course I’m going to. But what do I say?”

“You’re asking me what to say?”

“Yes! You're the writer. Oh and I read the first scene you sent by the way. I’m loving it so far, I could really hear their voices. But hey, you better not be trying to make me feel sorry for Eliza. She’s the villain.”

“She’s not the villain. Money is the villain.”

“How can money be a villain?”

“Because it was money that made Eliza break Sidney's heart in the first place. It was because of trying to save money that Tom ruined Sanditon. And it’s now money that’s dividing Charlotte and Sidney. Money is the root of all evil. Especially for women back then who had no way of supporting themselves other than to marry.”

“Ok, well, fine. When you put it like that, money’s a bitch.”

“With a capital B.” We both laughed, then I took a breath. “Look Darcy, I can only give you the same advice Dad gave me. Write what you love and write with your own voice.”

  
  


### Darcy

 _Write what you love, write with your own voice._ Kat’s, or rather, Dad’s words stay in my head all day as I make my way around the ward, then back, then back again. What is my voice? What could I possibly have to say that would be interesting to a well travelled, university educated, wealthy Hollywood star? Even if he did come from humble beginnings.

I try to come up with ideas while checking on my last patients.

“Sorry nurse? Did you say something?”

Whoops. I’d been muttering to myself behind the mask. “Nope, nothing. You’re all good here. See you tomorrow!” I quickly move on.

Maria is sitting reading _Wives and Daughters_ again. She folds the corner of her page (Kat would have thrown a paddy about not using a bookmark) and puts it down when she sees me coming.

“Still good?” I ask, fitting a blood pressure cuff over her arm.

“Very. I've read it five times now. Do you know the story?”

“Only from the TV series. I remember Molly and the wild step-sister who was always getting into trouble. Now I think about it, it's a bit like me and my sister!”

She waits patiently for me to take her pressure readings and for the cuff to deflate before speaking. “And are you Molly, or the wild one?”

“Guess.” I throw her a wink which makes her chuckle. “Oh and wasn’t that the story with a perfect, romantic socially distanced marriage proposal in the rain?”

“Goodness, you're right! Well I never, Elizabeth Gaskell, way ahead of her time!”

Maria strikes me as someone who would have written letters. Or at least, more letters than I have. (Grand Total: One.)

“Maria…” I start. She folds her hands on her lap as if she knows I’m about to ask something. “I wrote that letter, to the actor I told you about.”

“Good for you.”

“Thanks. See the thing is, he replied. And now I don't know how to reply. I don't know the first thing about writing and all my sister said was basically to be myself. But how’d you do that in a letter?”

“Simple.” She shakes her head. “A letter is a conversation, with the added benefit that you can change bits if you don't like it. Just write what you would say.” _Write with my own voice._ “Honestly, you kids today with all your instant communication, you don't know what you’re missing. There's something so much more romantic and emotional about taking the time to write. But here, if you're really stuck.” She leans forward as if to tell me a secret. “Reply to his letter in order, so talk about each sentence or each subject he mentions one point at a time, you'll soon have plenty to say.”

Right. Ok. Sounds simple enough. Break down his letter and respond like a face to face conversation.

What would I say if he was standing right in front of me?

Probably not a lot. I’d be too busy staring at his mesmerizing and soul melting face.

Oof.

### Kat

After work, I heard Jed’s footsteps come out of the office, down the stairs, then the fridge door and the clink of glasses before he came to join me on the sofa.

“I got your email.” He smiled. “You could have just read it to me you know?”

“I suppose. But this is my first draft, I didn't want to see your face.”

“Why?”

“Because it's embarrassing!”

He chuckled, “Sometimes, I really don't get you. I've never read Austen so have nothing to compare it to, but I enjoyed it and I want to know what happens next.”

“It doesn't come close to Austen, I mean I’m not even on the same planet, let alone level as her but… Really? You liked it?” I squinted at him, hoping he wasn’t just saying it to be nice.

“Really.”

As I stole a sip of his cider, he kissed my cheek, moved to the other end of the sofa then flipped open the laptop and his football manager. I tried to smile and kept telling myself to snap out of my mood but something was nagging at the back of my mind - it had been all day - something I couldn't quite grasp or put into words.

“Darcy got a reply from Noah Jones,” I murmured.

His head lifted, but eyes stayed on the screen. “Hmm? Who?”

“Noah Jones. The lead actor in Sanditon. Sidney Parker.”

“Seriously?” This time he looked up properly. “Wow. I’m impressed. There's no stopping her.”

No. There wasn't. Story of my life - and that was what bothered me.

“It’s not fair!” I blurted out, instantly turning away when I realized how childish that sounded.

Jed didn't reply but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.

“I just… It’s just that...” Frustrated tears stung my eyes. I loved Darcy, I really did. Still, for so much of my life, I felt like I’d been in her shadow. “Two years I’ve been writing and working on my book and I still haven't had the guts to send it to publishers! Then she gets an idea in her head and within a week, WHAM! She’s done it and got a damn reply from Noah Jones!” I flung my hands into the air, surprised by my own anger. Mostly though, I was angry with myself. “I wish I had even a tiny bit of her confidence, why couldn't I be more like her? _Everyone_ always loves Darcy. What Darcy wants, Darcy gets. I mean, come on it’s a miracle she never got you!”

“Stop it.” A hand on my knee from Jed and his serious tone stopped me in my tracks. “I hate it when you do this. Don’t compare yourself to--”

“Why? Everyone else does.” Even my own mother. Ever since Dad died, I was the odd one out. The quiet one, the afterthought, the third wheel. The plan B. “Why didn’t you ever ask her out?”

“Ha!” Jed shook his head. “I can see your upset Kat, about a lot of things, but I’m not getting drawn into this.”

“So you did ask her?”

“What? No!”

I rolled my eyes. _Why am I being such a jerk?_ “You knew her before me. She was single then and I know for a fact that you're her type.” She had never tried to hide her fondness for him.

Jed got up, shut the laptop and headed upstairs. 

I followed. “So?” I demanded again as he opened the bedroom door.

He stood with his back to me. “You’re not going to drop this are you?”

“No.” _Why why why?_

“Fine.” He turned and set his hands on my shoulders, brow furrowed, his anger at a controlled simmer behind coal-black eyes. “You know I love them and I would do anything for your family but I knew within five minutes after meeting Darcy that she was _not_ the kind of woman I wanted to go out with.” He sighed. “Then I met you. And I knew within five seconds, that you _were_.” His frown and grip softened. “So ok, you might not be the chattiest of people or brimming with loud confidence, but Kat… when you say something, it’s worth listening to. And I happen to love the way you express yourself.”

His eyes were so full of love and worry that it was almost painful to hold his gaze. My tears finally came. “I miss Dad.”

“I know baby.” He pulled my head onto his broad chest. “I’m sorry. I know I keep saying it, but I will read your book this week, the whole thing. I promise.”

My answer was muffled by his thick jumper so I nodded. The world always made sense when I had Jed’s strong arms around me. “Darcy was right about one thing.”

“Just the one?”

“Yes.” I looked up and pulled him closer. “You are my Mr. Parker.”

“I shall take that as a compliment...” Soft warm lips found mine. “As long as.” He smiled. “You don't expect to wear leather trousers anytime soon.”

_If only._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Can you guess which actor I'm thinking of when writing Jed?😉)   
> And soooo to those of you who have read my Theo James Fanfic (All The Days) Is the release of another new Taylor Swift album a sign I should write a sequel??? 😉😂


	14. Chapter 14

# 2020

# April

# Petition Signatures: 44381

### Joshua

Jump on my bike and head for the offices. Popping in and picking up the mail is about the only thing I can do at the moment. At least it's an excuse to get out of the house. 

Slightly worried that my following of the Sanditon fans is becoming an obsession… I've even started to read fanfiction (something I've never done in my life before) just so I can hear how the story could end. Admittedly, I have my own ideas for where it was headed based on things I overheard, but even then, nothing was set in stone. 

My live Q&A night on Twitter is fast approaching. Not going to lie, I’m terrified. Haven't got a clue what questions I’ll get asked or how it will work. Truly hope all this isn’t all for nothing. 

The lift doors open and I’m greeted by the familiar office view. Never thought I’d miss this grubby old place. What is that god awful smell? I bet Yan left something in the microwave again (which has now been there for over a month).

I collect and start sorting the mail into piles. Not as many for me today, but still, more than I used to get. (None.) Just as I chuck the usual spam and advertising leaflets into the bin, a plain white and slightly crumpled envelope with scrawled, looping writing catches my eye. 

It’s her. Darcy Baxter. She must have replied to the letter from Noah within a day. Of course she would have. _Oh boy._ A sick feeling flips my stomach as I pick it up and carefully open the seal. This is wrong. This is _so so_ wrong.

\---

Dear Noah,

I still can’t quite believe I'm writing this. Thankyou thankyou thankyou for your kind reply.

I was so excited to receive it that I rang my sister, Kat, straight away and may have possibly given her a heart attack from the surprise… _  
"B_ _ut don't despair, it'll pass; and no doubt more quickly than it should.”_ << You see!? You’re right. There really is an Austen quote for every situation! 

Do you have a favorite? (And no cheating - you can’t pick any from Sanditon.)

I am so glad you got to make one of your dreams a reality and play a part in Sanditon. And you are very modest about it, but I assure you, you were a very vital cog! As for my job at the moment, I wo

uld definitely say that I too feel like a cog - a tiny, wrapped up in PPE cog. I won't bore you with reams and reams of procedures and details but no, it’s not nice. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and I always wanted to be a nurse, but I can't really explain why. (Unlike Kat, I'm not great when it comes to words.)   
A long term patient and friend of mine died recently and well, I suppose it was thanks to him that I was compelled to send you my letter. None of us know what might happen tomorrow so no regrets, right? It was actually strangely freeing writing to a stranger with no real expectation of it being read or getting a reply. (No offence to you, I just presumed you would be too busy.) 

Hearing about your childhood memories brought a smile to my face - they sound so beautiful and I can see it so clearly... In our house, it would have been my parents on the sofa, with me and Kat sprawled on the floor eating our Sunday curry with chapatis (my mother is Indian) while watching either a period drama, musical or listening to Dad read. Talking of Dad and his reading… Yes! Both me and Kat (Catherine / Kitty) were named after Pride and Prejudice. That book in particular held a place in Dad’s heart as it played a part in his meeting my Mom, but that’s another story!

Thankyou again for everything. It gives me hope to hear that you also want Sanditon to (finally) get it’s ending.

Sincerely,

Darcy x

\---

My earlier sick feeling has been replaced by something else entirely. A heavy liquid fills my veins that is both warm and bubbling with excitement yet cold and achy. Mum always said I was a hopeless romantic, and it seems she was right. (Because what could be more romantic than a handwritten letter from a mystery woman.)

Fold the letter, tuck it carefully into my pocket and I head back out the office.

  
  


### Darcy

####  **@MrsChrlotteParker - YES! #SaveSanditon is**

####  **trending yet again! You are all soooo amazing. Keep it up xxx**

#### @TheRealMissDarcy - That's fab @MrsCharlotteParker We will not give up!

####  **@sanditon4eva - WOOHOO someone HAS to do something about it soon right? I've never heard of fans like us before!**

####  **@MrsSidneyP - Either that or we're all going to get a restraining order @sanditon4eva LOL**

####  **@fortheloveofnoah - I’d like to see them try and restr**

####  **ain us @MrsSidneyP ;-)**

#### @MrsCharlotteParker - DON’T FORGET everyone - Sanditon's very own DoP Joshua Coleman @behindthecamera is joining us in a few weeks for our live night! Get your questions and hashtags at the ready.

####  **@behindthecamera - Hey! Thanks for inviting me @MrsCharlotteParker Looking forward to it. Pretty new to twitter though, so go easy on me!**

####  **@TheRealMissDarcy - Don't worry about it, we’re all lovely and (**

####  **mostly) quite normal!!!**

Bless him, Joshua seems to be quite nervous about the Twitter evening. Charlotte says he’s already messaged her a few times to check up on details and times etc. Although, I can't really blame him for being a little scared. We are a pretty determined bunch of fans!

Part of me wishes I could tell them all about the letter from Noah. I almost did but then… Something stopped me. He hasn’t told me to keep it quiet but just something about the memories and feelings he shared… It seemed too personal. Like he was trusting me. No matter how much I want to shout out to the world about getting a letter from Noah Jones, I don't want him to regret sending it. Or get him in trouble. 

I wonder if he got my second letter (which I sent a few days ago) and whether he will honestly reply to me again? I followed Kat (and Dad) and Maria's advice to use my voice. Well, as much as I could anyway. He had signed his letter as just Noah, so that's how I addressed it. I’d even asked a question. Oh, and I put an ‘x’ on the end. Maybe that was too much? Argh I don’t--

“Earth calling Darcy? You there?”

I look up from my phone to see Pip and Zhi watching me, waiting to leave. “Oh! Sorry. Twitter is addictive…”  
“You're telling me!” Pip laughs. “I’d never used the thing until lockdown, now I’m bloody hooked. And Instagram they…” She carries on talking about the rabbit hole that is social media while I follow them both out of the changing rooms, through endless corridors towards the exit.

Passing though yet another set of double doors, I’m hit first by the chaotic noise, then by the smell of the A&E. Crying, general moaning, chatter then bleach, plastic, alcohol and what I can only describe as, stale body odor. I pause, looking through the windows at what used to be my home from home. I miss it. And yes, I know that probably makes me weird.

There's a man, roughly late 60s, lying on the hard floor, struggling to get up. He looks dreadful, shivering, dehydrated, exhausted. He lifts his hand, asking for help from an Orderly who’s walking past, only to get ignored. I know I’m not allowed to go in but it takes all my self control not to intervene and then give that staff member a piece of my mind. Since COVID, we are all stretched to our limits and other areas are suffering. The orderly was probably in a rush, already helping someone else. At least, I hope he was.

“Come on.” Zhi touches my elbow. “There's nothing you can do. You already do your best.”

Then why does it not feel good enough?

# 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Joshy Josh what are you playing at?! 😉
> 
> And YEY! I worked out how to add a picture!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> So ok, I think I've confused a few of you (sorry!) 
> 
> Let me clarify... Noah Jones is the name I made up to replace Theo James as I didn't want to write about the real people or companies involved.
> 
> Hence the reason I haven't mentioned the TV broadcaster that broke our hearts by cancelling Sanditon or the one named after a certain large river that sprinkled around a little hope only to never be heard from again... damn you! (River... RIVA... get it?)
> 
> But, while writing the character of Jed, I also found myself basing him on Theo/Sidney because well, he's just the perfect guy right?! 
> 
> So yeah... Theo is kinda in the story 3 times (Noah, Jed and Mr Parker) Clear as mud. 😉  
> It's fanfiction ok! It's not meant to make sense 😂
> 
> Elle xxx

# Petition Signatures 45900

### Kat

Scene Two - Willingdon. One Month Later.

Charlotte retired to her room after dinner as soon as it was politely possible to do so. She had spent the most part of the day outdoors, - something she made a habit of - occupied by hunting, tending to the gardens or playing with her younger siblings. By doing so, she found herself content. It was, however in the evenings, when she grew tired, that it became a struggle to remain in such an amiable mood.

_‘Do not think badly of me.’_ Sidney’s parting words replayed themselves over and over in Charlotte's mind. So much so, she was not entirely sure if some of his speech had been imagined. With each passing day, the pain and tears from his loss faded. Replaced instead, by something unexpected - bitter anger, rejection and resentment, all wrapped in a layer of frustration. Frustration of knowing that she would never be in a position to confront these emotions, for she would never again see Sidney Parker and so would never be able to ask him - Why had he not consulted her when faced with Sanditon’s plight? Had he truly exhausted every possibility of its rescue before turning to Mrs Campion and her fortune? How could he have ever truly loved Charlotte when he hastily engaged himself to another without so much as a word of explanation or even fair warning? And, perhaps most pressing of all - Would these feelings pass, allowing Charlotte to ever trust another man? Although the latter, she knew, was not a question for Mr Parker and could only be answered by herself. 

In time.

Charlotte was awoken early the next morning by the thunderous sound of her eldest sister, Alison, running up the stairs and straight into her room with barely a knock at the door.

“Wake up Charlotte, there are two letters for you!”

With one hand shielding her eyes from the morning light, Charlotte sat and took the letters which had been enthusiastically thrust upon her. Immediately, she saw the reason for her sister's excitement. The first letter - in a fine quality linen paper with stamped seal - was unmistakably from Mary Parker, however, attached to it was a second, far more decorated than the first. A gold crest glistened above a large red seal, marked with the single letter ‘W’

“Well? Aren't you going to open it?” Mrs Heywood had now also entered the room, looking much less flushed, but much more anxious than Alison.

Charlotte answered, “Yes Mama, although, I can already tell you its sender.”

“Who?” Both Sister and Mother questioned in unison.

The design of the crest and seal were ones Charlotte had seen before, on the side of a very grand carriage. A carriage belonging to - “Lady Susan Worcester.”

“You cannot be so sure? _The_ Lady Susan?” Asked Mrs Heywood, taking a seat on the end of Charlotte's bed, fanning her face. “How is this possible?”

“Quite sure Mama. I had the privilege of meeting her, twice. You would like her very much, I think. She is perfectly charming, and kind and yet, not the kind of woman anyone would say no to!”

Alison lowered her voice to a whisper, “Is it true that she is a _particular_ friend of the Prince?”

“Miss Alison Heywood!” A stern look from her mother saw Alison take a step back with an apology. “What have we taught you about listening to or spreading gossip?” Then with a smile, “And besides, I think you refer to the Prince _Regent_. Now.” A wave of her hand. “Go and make sure your brothers and sisters are dressed.”

Alsion left the room with a secretive wink toward Charlotte, indicating they would talk about the letter at a later time. Once gone, Mrs Heywood returned her attention to Charlotte.

“My dear, you never told us about these meetings with Lady Susan? Was there some problem, or quarrel between you?”  
“No, no, nothing of the sort, very much the opposite I assure you.”  
“Then I do not understand? There seems to be much I do not understand about you these days. You have been uncommonly quiet since your return from Sanditon. At first, I put it down to your missing the bustle of the town life, for I know there is very little in the way of prospects and entertainment in Willingdon, so I left you to your own devices, hoping you would speak when ready. But I cannot help starting to wonder if there is more to your melancholy my dear?”

“No. Well, yes. That is, I do miss Sanditon, but not so much as… so much as the people and… Mary and the Parkers, my friends and… and…” Charlotte's words vanished into the air as she truly realised just how much she missed _him._ Sidney Parker. And the future that had been snatched so suddenly from her grasp. “Oh, Mama!” After a month-long battle of will, Charlotte’s resolve crumbled into dust and she revealed the truth behind her silence.

Mrs Heywood listened with sorrow to the trials of her daughter. “Oh, my poor poor girl.” She handed Charlotte her best handkerchief. “I should like to put that Mr. Sindey in his place. He is no Gentleman!”

“Mama, please. I do believe he intended to keep his word and to propose. If circumstances had been different.”

“Intentions! What good are his intentions if he does not have the decency or strength to stick to them! Oh no, I shall not excuse him on the ground of good intentions. And then to flag down your carriage, alone, and begs your good favour without even a word of apology! Oh no no no, I shall not excuse him one bit. If your father hear--”

“No! I beg you, Mama please do not tell him. There is no harm done, I have, or at least I will recover and no one else need know. You know that Papa will never let me leave Willingdon ever again if he hears and look!” As a finely written line of scrolling script caught Charlotte’s eye, she held up the letter. “Lady Susan invites me to be her companion for the summer season, she requests that I… wait, she will send a carriage and expects my arrival on May 5th!”

“But my dear, that is only four days away?”

“The letter was addressed to the Parkers house in Sanditon. Mary must have forwarded it on which would explain the delay. I must reply immediately, for otherwise, she will send the carriage to the wrong place! That is… Oh Mama, please may I go?”

“My daughter, special companion to the Lady Susan Worcester, what an honour! Of course, you should go. I will speak to your father directly.”

Overcome with excitement, Charlotte embraced her Mother. She was eager to see Lady Susan again, and for the welcome distractions that London society would provide.

  
  


### Darcy

I read the second scene from Kat while on the train ride home and immediately text her.

####  **Ouu yes Lotties off to London! Will she meet Sid there? Does this mean LadyS will save the day? Dx**

####  **18:32**

####  **I'm not telling you… Mainly because I don't know. Yet! x K**

####  **18:34**

####  **It has to be LadyS though right? She's the only one rich enough? Unless Lady Denham changes her mind? Argh how can you not know? You're writing it!**

####  **18:40**

####  **Lol because I’m trying something new, I haven't planned anything. I'm kinda just seeing what happens and letting the characters lead. Like a complete pantster.**

####  **18:43**

####  **Pantster? What the hell?**

####  **18:43**

####  **Writing by the seat of your pants.**

####  **18:44**

####  **That sounds just plain wrong. But as long as your pants lead us to a Sidlotte HEA then you do what you gotta do sista! ;-p**

####  **18:46**

####  **Or a Jamlotte HEA…**

####  **18:47**

####  **NO!**

####  **18:47**

  
  


She better be teasing me. James Stringer is lovely n’ all but no thanks, I do not want a ‘Jamlotte!’ I'm enjoying her story though, so far. I would never tell Kat, but I’ve never read any of her stuff before. I should try and read her book... She’s always been so clever and creative, I wish I had her way with words. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt so stupid writing my last letter. It’s been a week since I sent it. Argh, why did I bother! The fact he replied the first time was a fluke.

The lift in my apartment block broke down just before the March lockdown so no one can come and fix it, which means I have to trudge my way up the stairs. My feet burn. A hot bath is calling. I turn the key in my front door, step in, flick on a light, kick off my shoes and before the door is barely shut behind me, pull off my bra through my sleeve. Not very ladylike but hell, it feels so much better!

A soft crinkle of something smooth under my toes takes me by surprise. Lifting up my foot reveals a letter. My heart stops and drops to my feet like a block of concrete. Gently, I pick it up, (the letter that is, not my heart) as if it might disintegrate to ash from being held too tightly. Noah’s handwriting is unmistakable. Small, even and rounded. I've subconsciously ended up sitting on my bed (honestly have no idea how I got here) opening the seal and pulling out the letter. 

\---

Dear Darcy,

Do I have a favourite Austen quote? What a question! How much time do you have? This letter may be quite long… I suppose it depends on what kind of day I’m having because, as you said, even in today’s mad world, there really is a quote for any situation. Which only goes to prove just how great a writer she was.

I’m very sorry to hear about your friend. But, I can't help being grateful that it gave you the push to write to me. Please, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and thank you for all your hard work. (See what I did there?!) 

Honestly though, at the moment I’m glad to be of any kind of service to someone, so by all means (absolutely no offence taken) carry on writing to this stranger about whatever you like. My email address is below to make things a little easier (and free).

Sunday Curries?! Authentic ones too! Now that is a memory I wish I could join in with… and come on, you know I’m an Austen fan, who also happens to be in the business of telling stories for a living so you CANNOT dangle the ‘ _my parents met because of Pride and Prejudice then named their daughters after it’_ carrot! 

Please, you have to tell me more?

Noah x

sanditon@rivatv.co.uk

\---

OMGEEEEE! I can't breathe. I genuinely. Can. Not. Breathe. Someone fetch me a nurse. Oh, wait…


	16. PAUSE

Hey folks,

I just wanted to pop a quick note on to say sorry for going AWOL on this story...

Life's been a bit mad since Nov when I lost my Dad, and my head just wasn't in the writing space  
(it all started to get a bit dark and gloomy!) 

But, I'm in the process of re-drafting this story and will hopefully be continuing it soon, or might even start again!! 😅

And hey, who knows, we might be able to call it - 'Sanditon is Saved' ;-) 

Thanks xxx

Elle


End file.
